Once Fallen
by l4dy-ishtar
Summary: 11.11.11 As you wish. Second Chances. Hermione doesn't need it, someone begs to differ. Draco's in desperate need of just one, though is a kiss really necessary? Throw in some teachers plotting and double-stitched tapestry. Not your typical HB/HG setup.
1. Déjà Vu

**Once Fallen**

...

-Déjà Vu-

The day started out with a bang, unfortunately.

"Hermione!"

The cherubs around her took that as a sign of trouble and scrambled past the accused girl, away from the warpath of higher-ranked angel.

"Yes, Mark?" Hermione gazed up into the male angel's eyes looking every bit like the innocent angel she was supposed to be. Key words: _supposed_ to be.

The man before her looked slightly ruffled.

"Tell me, Hermione, did you have something to do with that explosion at the gate?"

He eyed her carefully.

"An explosion. Really? I haven't heard of such a thing. In fact, I've been here all morning."

"Look me in the eye"

Hermione whimpered, but did as she was told; she was confused to see sadness in them, usually he would be perpetually amused.

"Good girl. Now tell me, did or didn't you have anything to do with the explosion?"

She broke his gaze and whispered, "Yes…"

"Hermione," he admonished, "What for?"

"It wasn't my fault," she hurried to explain, "The other angels said that they didn't believe that I could do magic, so I showed them."

She finished with a defiant upward tilt of her chin.

The older angel looked down at her with concern in his eyes, "Hermione, you know I've told you countless of times. You aren't like them, you—"

"I what? I know I'm different, must you tell me that, too? Don't you think I know? But why does different have to be bad, can't it be good too? It can, I know it can."

"Hermione, you don't understand."

"Then tell me. All these years, you've only told me that I was different. You've never told me why. Wouldn't now be a good time to tell me why? Tell me why I have to be different. Tell me why all these years the others have been treating me like I'm an outsider."

Her eyes shined brightly with tears threatening to fall upon her face. Biting her lip as to not show her sadness, Hermione looked downwards.

"Hermione…" he cupped her face with softness and ease.

"Hermione," he started again, "… Hermione, do you know why God erases the memories of everyone that comes into heaven?"

She shook her head.

"He does that to ensure that nobody is judged when they are admitted into heaven… that nobody will be able to judge others. You are a blank slate when you enter Heaven."

"I still don't understand. How does that make me different?" she spat out the last word with contempt.

She wasn't prepared for what he was about to say.

"You, my darling cherub, are a... witch."

Hermione's eyes widened at his words.

"Or should I say: _were_ a witch. Before you… before you died, you _were_ a witch."

"How could I be a witch? Witches are evil; they're associated with Satan, angels are good. I am good. I am an_ angel_." She was bordering hysterical.

"Let me assure you, you were and actually still are most definitely a witch. Your powers, they aren't normal for such a young cherub like you."

"But you have powers, too."

"Yes, but I am far older than you, Hermione."

"Certainly there are more witches and wizards here besides me. Why wouldn't I have noticed them?"

He took a deep breath, "There aren't. You're the only one."

"Why?"

"I saved you."

"What? Why only me? Why not others?"

"Like you said, witches and wizards are associated with evil. Your circumstances were quite unusual."

"Is that all you're going to say? My _circumstances _were unusual?"

"Yes, that's all I_ have _to say. That is all I am permitted to say," he bit his lip.

"Why tell me now? I've begged you many times before."

"Know that it hurts me to say this, Hermione. Know that it pains me deeply. For the years I've taken care of you and watched over you, I've become quite fond of you."

"And you've become a father figure for me," Mark grimaced, but she didn't notice, "What's going to happen to me?" The tears shined through more prominently.

Mark took her hands and grabbed hers.

"You're going back." His voice slightly cracked.

Hermione attempted to hold back her traitorous tears and choked out, "Back?"

"The council has decided that it was time for you to go back. I tried, believe me, I tried to get them to let you stay, but they would have no leeway."

She gazed into his eyes.

"Am I going to be able to come here again?"

He turned his head.

"Tell me, Mark. Am I going to be able to come back? Tell me. Why won't you tell me?"

He whispered softly, "No…"

But Hermione heard him. She heard the word that would condemn her to earth forever. Forever wandering. Forever lost.

"How long?"

"How long what?" He knew what she was talking about.

"How much longer can I stay?"

Mark took a deep breath before answering, "You can't. The council has ordered you to leave. It's only a matter of minutes, now."

"_Today_? Why, is it because of this morning?"

"To tell you the truth, it might have been the straw that broke the camel's back, but the council had been pondering over your stay for months now."

"I see." Her voice shook, but now it shook from anger. The council members had the _nerve _to talk about _her _behind her back when just last week the head member had cheerfully smiled at her and asked her how she was.

Well, now she knew how to answer. _Angry_. She was angry. She was angry and she was going to do something about it. Since this was her last day in heaven, she might as well make the best of it. Revenge perhaps?

"Hermione, I know that look. You can't blame everything on them; you have to admit that you had some part in it, too."

She stared at the face that had raised her, the face that had cared for her. She was scared to that there was no falsity or doubt showing. She had no hope. No anger. No strong emotions within her.

She just wanted to know.

"Mark…"

"Yes?"

"When, I'm down there again, what am I supposed to do?"

His answer came out in a breathless voice, "You're going to live your life again. Before your accident. Before you died. Before I saved you. You're going to be living your old life again. Shouldn't you be happy?"

Hermione was distraught. How could she live her life _again_? What if her life was dreadful? What if she had nobody? Nobody to care for her. Nobody to love. Nobody to love her.

"Tell me, Mark… was I happy?"

"You mean before—"

"_Yes_."

"Yes, somewhat. I guess _you _would call it _happy_."

She let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. His answer at least brought some solace to her.

"This is goodbye isn't it?"

"Yes."

"I won't forget you, Mark. Ever."

"I'm afraid you will."

At his words, she felt as if she were falling down headfirst into a bottomless pit of despair twice over.

"Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Take my hand Hermione and I'll take you back."

Back. She hated that word.

"Wait, I have one more question. How did I die—"

**x**

"Hermione? Wake up Hermione. It's almost time for us to leave."

The girl stirred slightly in her bed. She wanted to return to that dream. She felt so peaceful there.

"Hermione. Come on, the boys are waiting. We have to be there at eleven or we won't be there at all."

She recognized that voice. It was her current bunk mate, Ginny. Ginny? Why was Ginny in her dream?

"Hermione!"

Jolted from her slumber, Hermione got to her feet immediately. It was such a nice dream, too. At least she thought so, she couldn't remember anything from it. A pity.

"Yes?"

"Hurry, it's twenty to eleven, and you still haven't packed... yet." Ginny's voice wilted when she saw that the older girl had already prepared her trunk for the start of the new school year and was patiently waiting for her to realize it.

"How do you do that?"

"It's magic," she winked.

"You're lucky you're old enough. Just get changed and we'll be able to go."

Hermione could hear the words 'cheeky' and 'tart' from the room she previously occupied.

Within a few minutes, Hermione was ambling downstairs with her luggage levitating slightly behind the other girl.

"Finally!"

"Yeah, Hermione. What took you so long?"

"Shut it, you prats. I'll have you know I was sleeping."

"You? Hermione? Sleeping in? Hold me Ron, I think I'm going to faint."

She shot the two boys a mock glare.

"No time for fainting Harry, we were supposed to be at the station five minutes ago."

The voice from within the living room flowed into the kitchen and could be easily recognized as Molly Weasley.

"Come now, children, hurry along."

The trip from the Burrow to Kings' Station felt eerily familiar. She quashed the nonsensical feeling as she marked it down as just the familiarity of having done it the previous years.

**x**

"Save us a compartment, would you Ginny? We've all got duties to fulfill and all that." Ron commanded as he puffed out his chest arrogantly.

"Argh, and how do you suppose I save it when you lot," she glared at Ron, Harry, and Hermione with false anger, "are gone. The other seventh years will simply kick me out."

Harry coughed the words 'Bat Bogey Hex.'

Ron pretended he hadn't heard it, but still looked amused.

Ginny and Hermione's eyes met and they both shared a quick smile.

"Yes, yes, well get on with it and hurry back. I don't like sitting alone."

**x**

The debriefing of Prefect and Head Duties was surprisingly short.

Other years, the meeting would drag on and on until you would want to bash your head in to make it stop altogether.

Harry should count himself lucky that he was neither prefect nor Head Boy. He counted himself luckier that he was permitted to sit in the meeting at all. Then again, he had to carefully consider whether or not being able to stay with Hermione and Ron was worth it if he had to also listen to others drone on and on about expectations and reports. It was not.

Being the exception, Hermione gladly listened to every word Professor McGonagall had told them, not that she didn't know all of her duties by heart.

Ron and Harry had long since disappeared from their 'bathroom break'.

"Head Girl, I could sing."

"Rather not hear that, Granger. My ears wouldn't be able to take it."

Ah, yes. The git she would have to share the Heads Common Room with, Draco Malfoy. Damn Dumbledore and his accursed ideas of 'House Unity.' For years she felt that the name should be considered a swear word as the man who held it was as foul as a tar pit.

"Malfoy."

"Granger." He said this as he eyed her appreciatively.

The creeping blush and confusion told him that he had gotten the reaction he wanted.

"What, no mudblood?"

"Open your eyes, Granger. We're all adults here. We _can _act civil."

She snorted.

"Very ladylike Granger."

"Yes, Malfoy, well I'll start acting _ladylike _when you start acting like a gentleman."

"Milady," he mock bowed at her.

"Goodbye Malfoy," she rolled her eyes at him.

**x**

She entered the compartment containing two Weasleys, one Potter, and spotted an extra addition.

"Ron... Harry... you left me. Oh, Lavender, hello."

"Hermione, good morning."

"Is it, hmm… I guess you could say it _was_."

Since the incident where Hermione had sent the canaries at Lavender in her jealous fit, both girls found it quite difficult to apologize to one another. Instead, they settled for an icy acquaintanceship. Not that Hermione minded.

For the rest of the train ride to Hogwarts, Hermione had sat in a quiet contemplation.

The entire day had felt like déjà vu to her and she couldn't figure out why.

...

**This is their seventh year. I've taken some _artistic_ liberties and have changed the canon storyline a bit. That's mainly the reason why this is AU.  
**

**_SPOILER ALERT:_ Though in the sixth book, Draco becomes a Death Eater, he's not one in this story which lets Dumbledore live, and Snape is allowed to keep his position as Potions Master. I'll notify you if I changed any other canon story lines... but those were the most important ones anyhow.  
**

**_Constructive _criticism is welcome and I stress the constructive part.**


	2. The River in Egypt

**This chapter has been edited for *coughs* quality**. **Though it is questionable.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own them yet. :)**

...

-The River in Egypt-

"Hermione… Hermione?"

"Hermione!Pay attention."

The girl in question was receiving curious stares from both Harry and Ron _and_ the surrounding Gryffindors at the table.

"Yes?"

"Weren't you supposed to meet McGonagall five minutes ago?"

"Goodness, you're right. Thanks, see you two later."

She walked away leaving three people in disbelief that their Golden Girl would forget something as important as her Head Duties.

**x**

"So nice of you to join us, Miss Granger."

She muttered her excuses as the professor led both Head Boy and Head Girl to their dormitories.

Surprisingly, Malfoy had not ridiculed her about being late. He couldn't have been _serious _about being civil could he?

"—The Fallen."

"What?"

"The Fallen, Miss Granger, that is the password to the Head Common Room."

"Oh," she blushed.

"Now, if you'll both excuse me, I must resume my own duties. I'll leave you two to your own devices."

Hermione watched as the transfiguration professor walked down the deserted hall.

"—Granger."

"Excuse me?"

"Really now. Have you not been listening to a word I've been saying to you at all? And here I am going out of my way to act decent."

"Quiet, Fer—_Malfoy_," she smiled innocently, "it couldn't have been so important that you can't repeat again is it?"

"I suppose in regards to our little truce, I should. But I don't think so."

"Gee, Malfoy. And I thought you'd actually developed into a decent adult."

"I'm more than decent, Granger. Just ask any girl and she'll tell you the same."

Scowling at his implication, Hermione shoved past him and walked through the entrance and into their common room. The common room they would be sharing until the end of the year. Bollocks.

"I think they've overdone a bit."

"Excuse me?"

"Honestly, Granger. Keep up. You've been standing in the same spot for the past few minutes now. You're as inattentive as that Lovegood girl."

He was right. For all three observations. She was feeling quite distracted today but she didn't have a clue as to why.

The decorator certainly had overdone the whole 'House Unity' thing. The silvers and golds clashed. The reds and greens made it feel like a cheap hotel room someone would use at Christmas. And she was sure she'd seen it before.

Uncanny.

She clicked her tongue.

She had still been standing in the same spot for well over fifteen minutes. Not wanting to look like an idiot, Hermione gracefully glided towards a room she assumed with her as the initials '_HG_' were present.

She wanted to gag. Here in her room were the Gryffindor colors done in overkill. The colors clashed in moderation, but now it looked as if somebody had just randomly smashed the colors together and multiplied the brightness by ten. She decided that first thing next morning, since it was a Saturday, she'd redecorate her room and perhaps tone down the 'decorations' in the common room.

Right now, however, she was going to wash up and snuggle into what looked like an oh-so-comfortable bed forgetting to at least tell Ron and Harry of her whereabouts. Soft bed... at least they got that part right. She could fall asleep right then and there, but thought it best to wash up first after the long train ride.

She turned the knob of the door she had determined to be the bathroom.

Midway through tugging off her undershirt a presence made itself known on the other side of the room.

"Hold on Granger. I don't usually sleep with a girl until she's at least bought me dinner."

Hermione could practically feel his smirk against her skin. Wait, Malfoy? In the bathroom? That's… odd… wait what?

"Malfoy!"

"Yes, Granger, it's me. Who else would it be?"

"Why are you in here?"

"Well usually before I go to sleep, I like to brush my teeth," his tongue dripping with sarcasm, "And you are?"

"Wondering why you're in the bathroom… while I'm in it, too."

"Look, you obviously don't get it, so I'll say it nice and slow for you, Granger. We. Are. Going. To. Be. Sharing. This," he gestured vaguely at the expanse of the bathroom, "Got it, yes?"

With that little piece of knowledge with her, she felt relieved that he actually had a reason to be here. Here… interesting. Here is where she was so…

"Get out, out, out!"

He looked highly amused, "I don't think so. You see, I was here first."

She let out a frustrated scream and stomped out of the room muttering obscenities under her breath. Of them all, Malfoy's favorite was 'bleach-blond Goldilocks.'

Safely secured in the privacy of her room, Hermione dropped her head and blushed deeply into her pillow.

She wondered momentarily of the repercussions if she purposely tried to repress her memories. Interesting option.

As if the decorations weren't bad enough. She swore silently that if she ever met whoever designed the Head Towers, she'd hex the balls off them.

**x**

"Argh, it hurts."

The seventeen-going-on-eighteen year old girl winced at the sight of her room. Hearing that the bathroom was unoccupied, she hoped, she rolled off her bed.

Cursing slightly for hitting her head on one of the posts, Hermione stumbled to the bathroom to wash up. No Malfoy. Good.

The bath was exquisite. Due to the, ahem… incident, she had not seen the full-sized bathtub in the room but was quite glad that she finally did spot it.

She reentered her room with fierce determination with her wand in hand, she was ready.

**x**

"Work, damn you, work!"

Hermione cried out in frustration for the thousandth time this morning.

"_Incendio!_" she attempted to burn it at least.

One thousand and one.

"In need of anger management, don't you think?"

Spinning around to face the person who dared interrupt her in her time of fury. Malfoy. Correction, Malfoy in his boxers. Of course. Bloody hell.

She refused to interact with Malfoy when he wasn't even dressed yet.

Seeing her reluctance and being the perfect gentleman that he was, Malfoy thought to shed some light on her dire situation, "It's not going to work, Granger."

This time she did answer him, "It will if I say it will."

"Well I say it won't and it won't. Can't you see that the hack of an interior designer cast a charm over the furnishing and decorations so that no one, not even the Head Boy or Girl will be able to change the original design?"

Slightly embarrassed at not having caught on Hermione snapped, "Well how would you know?"

"Easy, I've been watching you. Quite a while actually. Surprised that you didn't notice me."

She blushed while trying to keep her face straight as she continued to meet his gaze. She broke the contact first.

"And what do you suppose I do?"

"Watch and learn."

With a smug expression on his face, Malfoy performed a series of complex wand-work. Hermione didn't even want to ponder where he had hidden his wand before pulling it out. Instead, she chose to stare in bewilderment. Malfoy had actually managed to change the horrible colors to a more balanced black and green.

"Got it, _Hermione_?"

She could _feel_ rather than_ see _his smirk.

But opting on confusion at his skills as opposed to hexing him on the spot for just being so annoyingly Malfoy-ish.

"I'm quite partial to these types of spells. It keeps the girls quite happy for some reason," he grinned but allowed his face to form a quizzical expression.

She ignored his answer and instead replied, "Two things Malfoy. Teach me and why the odd color scheme?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way. I'd _love _to teach you a thing or two," he looked at her suggestively.

Choosing to ignore the insinuations, Hermione responded, "Perfect. And now the colors?"

"It's simple. Black and green go together."

"And it has nothing to do with the fact that you're in Slytherin?"

"Does green stand for Slytherin? How surprising," he said innocently.

Hermione snorted at his blatant display of feigned innocence.

"Well then, would you like me to turn charm it back to red and gold?"

"No!" she said a bit _too _forcefully.

He smirked. "Green and black it is then."

She found it hard to argue when she examined her room once more. The evidence pointed to Malfoy's obvious talent when it came to designs.

"Anything else?"

"What?"

"Anything else need changing? Personally I think the only problem was with the colors. I've already redone mine, but we might also need to redo the commons. I'm not fond of blinding my guests and causing them to seize whenever they come to visit."

He winked. No seriously, he did.

**x**

They had spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon transforming the drab and atrocious Heads Tower into something more tasteful and elegant. This too, much to Hermione's reluctant acquiescence was done in black and green.

What would Harry and Ron say? What's done is done she decided firmly not opting to consider her friends' reaction over the state of her common room.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Hermione remarked, "Finally. Done."

"And?"

"_And_... I like the color choices." She rolled her eyes not caring if he saw or not.

"Always knew you were a Slytherin on the inside Granger, but I meant the truce."

"Oh, that. Well I suppose. Deal?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

Leaning in to shake his hand, Hermione felt his lips upon hers. The mere intensity of the kiss caused her head to become dazed. She couldn't deny that it felt _nice_... but couldn't shake the feeling that it was _familiar_.

As she felt herself being released from the confinement of his charms, Hermione felt disappointment wash over her.

Slightly out of breath, the _man_ grinned at her hungrily, "Just sealing the deal Granger."

Sending a wink her way, Malfoy left the room to seemingly make his way to the Dungeons and towards the Slytherin Dormitories.

Hermione chose to make nothing of it. After all, Harry and Ron had kissed her multiple times. Not _exactly _the way _he _had, but they had and that's what counts. Isn't it?

...

**Sighs… apparently for Hermione denial isn't just a river in Egypt anymore. Ah well, she'll get it eventually. I apologize for Hermione's spaceyness, but come on... she just got sent back from _Heaven_, she deserves to be a little out of it.  
**


	3. Back Rub, Yes?

**Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.K. Rowling… the lucky little so-and-so ;)**

...

-Back Rub?-

A whirlwind of chestnut curls plopped itself down next to one Harry Potter.

"Where've you been all weekend, Hermione?"

"You probably won't believe this, but I was with Malfoy."

Her cheeks reddened at the memory of finding Malfoy behind her in only his boxers--she knew she should have threatened him to put something _decent _on--teaching her the altering spells that were used to redesign the dormitories. Uncomfortable, to put it mildly.

Quickly realizing her mistake and coupled with the blushes shown on her cheeks, the girl explained more elaborately, "Fixing up the dormitories. We actually have a truce. Goodness Harry, think better of me next time, would you?" She intentionally left out the part about the kiss.

The green tinge around Harry's face lessened but was not completely gone.

"Right. I was just responding the same way that you'd respond if I said, 'I'm shagging Parkinson and no, she doesn't have me under the Imperius curse right now.'"

Hermione snickered slightly at his remark, but now she had the image in her head.

"Hermione? What's wrong, you're making a face."

"I'm fine, Harry, really. Just images. Really, really bad images," she made a face. Bad Hermione.

"Now what's this about a truce?"

"Malfoy and I... we have a truce. Since we're going to be working together this year, and what with the NEWT level classes, it wouldn't hurt to have some civility between partners."

Harry frowned, "I don't trust him, but you know what's best for yourself, Hermione. Just tell me if he's been acting up. Moody taught me the spell to transform people into _ferrets_."

She chuckled at the thought of Malfoy as a ferret. Oooh, that would be good.

Seizing the opportunity, Harry thought to use the light tone of their conversation as a segue for a more serious matter. Ron, naturally.

Not knowing what Harry had in mind, Hermione innocently asked, "So, where's Ron?"

Harry smiled devilishly, "With Lavender."

"Really? Did they get back together? Pass the toast."

Not liking her indifferent reaction, Harry pressed, "Yes, in fact. Ron approached _her_. And asked _her_ on a date."

"That's very adult of him. Usually he'd wait for the girl to make the move. But I suppose everybody grows up sooner or later," she shot Harry a grin, "But some of us not soon enough. Pass the toast, _please._"

Truthfully, Hermione wasn't at all bothered by the fact that Ron had not chosen her to be his girlfriend. It was more about _whom_ he actually chose to be his girlfriend. Any other girl and it would have been fine.

This girl in particular, Lavender, had rubbed her the wrong way since fourth year when Lavender had told everybody that Hermione had used a glamour charm at the Yule Ball and tricked Viktor Krum into taking her to the ball by using a love potion. As if she could make a love potion. Well she could, but she didn't have to. Unlike _somebody_ else and his or _her_ annoying friends.

The canaries Hermione had used to attack Lavender were some well overdue stress release. The side effect of not having to maintain their so-called friendship was just a plus for Hermione.

"Hermione," Harry chided, "Shouldn't you be the least bit sad? Or angry? Angry would be great, too."

Harry looked at her furtively hoping that she would explode at any second and proclaim her love for Ron.

But alas, "Why would I be sad or angry? I think it's great that Ron has a girlfriend, granted it's Lavender, but whatever makes him happy."

She gave up on asking Harry for the toast and instead reached for it herself.

"Hermione… you know that Ron has had that crush on you for years now. Don't you two think that you should just own up to your feelings and start dating already?"

"'Own up to my feelings'? Harry, you know that I now only think of Ron as a brother. A few years ago I would've been ecstatic, but now... not so much. Dating would be awkward. Besides that, he has chosen Lavender as you already said. I wouldn't want to be the cause for their breakup knowing that Ron and I would never work."

Hermione said the last part as icily as possible hoping that Harry would just drop the subject.

Thankfully, he did.

"So…," Harry quickly looked for a safe subject to converse on, "Double Potions first thing this fine Monday morning. Up for it?"

"As always. I'm just a bit nervous that it's a NEWT level class."

"Come on Hermione. You're bloody brilliant. You're going to pass with flying colors."

"Yes, yes, that's what you always say to me," she smiled, "However, that's not the only thing I'm worried about. I'm not sure I even _need _to take Potions at all. I don't want to end up taking a class that I don't need and have it turn out that I did need a class but didn't have time for it."

"Rough bit of patchwork there, but I'm sure you'll decide in time. Me and Ron have already decided that we're going to become Aurors, it's the only reason why we're even taking the blasted class."

"You guys have it so lucky. Already knowing what you want. I'm stuck between either something in Healing or Law Enforcement... or maybe Regulation? They all seem so interesting," she groaned.

Her words sounded frantic, another understatement. It seemed that she had been thinking about her future career for quite awhile, but the answer eluded her. She was unprepared for the world and the experiences she'd have to go through.

On the verge of hyperventilation, Harry calmed her by taking her into an embrace and whispering soothing words into her ears.

This seemed to placate her somewhat as her breathing became regular again. That is until a voice interrupted them.

"Harry! Is this why you wanted me to ask Lavender out? So that you could make a move on Hermione without me in the way?" Ron glared at his male best friend.

The two broke apart, startled.

"What? No, Ron. I was just trying to calm her down."

"Of course you were, seemed downright _cozy_ to me."

"Ronald, don't make it seem like you're jealous. It'll make Lavender feel uncomfortable. Besides, there's nothing going on between me and Harry. Just like nothing will ever go on with me and you," she added as a hint.

Ron's face reddened drastically.

Lavender interceded feeling the tense mood between the three, "Ron-Ron, let's go. It's almost time for class."

For once, Hermione was thankful that Lavender had spoken up.

The four walked each other to class until Lavender had to leave for her own class after failing countless times to catch Ron's attention who was glaring at Harry. Harry, who was keeping his distance for Hermione, was just trying to avoid any outbursts.

This at least, seemed to ease Ron's earlier suspicions.

**x**

The class broke out in interested whispers. The Potions Master, Snape, had just assigned them to concoct the truth serum, Veritaserum.

Eagerly awaiting to be paired up, the class listened intently for their names as Snape stated aloud, "As some ingredients require a longer preparation process, I will provide those. The rest, you're on your own. Listen closely; Potter… Chang, Goldstein… Zabini, Mr. Malfoy… Weasley. As for you Miss Granger, you will be attempting to brew it alone. Surely the Head Girl is competent enough for this _simple _serum? I suggest you not make a mess of it or I might have to start docking House Points so early in the year."

The words _seemed_ regretful, it was the way he said that that led to Hermione's anger that Snape would resort to deducting House Points to rile her up.

From beside her, Harry had an elated aura about him, three guesses why. Still holding on to his juvenile crush, he had to silently thank Snape for pairing him up with Cho.

Zabini could care less whom his partner was as long as they weren't: one, a muggleborn, and two, in his way. However, Malfoy was fuming. The nerve of their Potions Professor pairing him up with a Weasel.

It was the simple act of a power play. Each waited for the other to to come sit at _their_ workstation.

Reluctantly, Ron walked over to Malfoy's desk and the two worked in silent anger.

Across the room, Hermione was already making headway into the production of her potion. It was simmering exactly how the book said it would.

**x**

It's too quiet, Hermione thought, something should have happened by now. She could practically feel the dread washing over her. Almost as if she had predicted it, an explosion on the other side of the room sounded.

She snorted, if she believed that Divinations wasn't a total crock, she would have clapped her hands merrily and proclaimed that she was a seer and rubbed it in Trelawney's face. Good thing she knew better.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor! Get yourself to the hospital wing, Weasley."

Ron did so as he told while clutching his face.

Malfoy, on the other hand, appeared unscathed. Interesting.

"Mr. Malfoy, gather your things. You will be working with Miss Granger for the remainder of the assignment."

Hermione momentarily lost her composure. She hadn't seen or talked to Malfoy since their 'truce' as she had avoided him that night and the morning after and then until now. The thought of it brought a slight blush to her face.

Malfoy appeared in front of her, "Granger."

With an air of indifference around her or at least she hoped it was indifference, Hermione replied, "Malfoy."

**x**

With an enormous amount of strain on his features, Snape eventually grounded out that Malfoy and Hermione's potion received full marks before sending them to their next class. To the rest, Snape gladly dismissed them with less than mediocre scores.

The class was safely at the exit before hearing their Professor drawl, "Each of you will be taking the _Veritaserum_," he snorted before continuing, "while your partners question you before taking it themselves. I expect the essay to be at least three feet long on the effects of the Veritaserum by this Friday. You are dismissed."

Cautiously wondering what questions they were going to use, the students ambled down the corridors unenthusiastically towards their next class.

Before parting ways in the corridors, Malfoy managed to catch Hermione's eye. From Hermione's vantage point, she clearly saw that his lips were twisted into a seductive smile, but his eyes were full of mischief.

It sent shivers down her spine. Bad shivers, she assured herself.

She gasped realizing his plans. She was sure he was going to ask her humiliating questions and then use them to spread rumors about her. Damn.

**x**

She was only halfheartedly listening to her other Professors' lectures for the rest of the day. There was dread within her of the coming meeting with Malfoy in the commons. Surely, he would want to start as soon as possible, the little prat.

Barely through the dormitory portal, Malfoy whisked Hermione swiftly towards the middle of the common room. Yes, he was eager to start.

"Listen, Malfoy, I'm pretty beat. Grueling day and all that. So let's do this later…" she trailed off. Malfoy had pressed his fingers to her lips, silencing her.

"Now, now, _Hermione_," he stressed her name, "Don't you think we're past all that last-name business, yes? Think of the truce."

Hermione pouted, but nodded.

Malfoy lowered his hand.

"But Mal—"

His fingers descended upon her mouth again. She was getting a little irked with his methods of quieting her.

"Tsk tsk tsk. First name, yes?"

He lowered his hand again.

"Draco—"

"That's my name."

She glared at him.

"As I was saying, I'm pretty tired, maybe we should start later?"

"Tired?" he asked, concerned, "Poor Hermione. Here, a back rub will sort you out, yes?"

"No!" her eyes were wide with panic and her arms were out in front of her to ward off his advances.

"Well, you seem active enough. Let's start."

Hermione groaned.

Yes, they _were _going to start. Damn.

...

**Hermione's dreams _will_ be used as a sort of window to her future. Just glimpses really and either soon or much later in the chapters. I haven't decided which yet.  
Anxious to see what questions they're going to ask? You know what to do.**

**It's not a straight out glimpse to the future, so don't get your hopes up.  
**

**.:Review Please:.**

**Thanks.**


	4. Who Knew?

**Disclaimer: pouts then sighs…**

...

-Who Knew?-

Reluctantly, she tilted the vial of Veritaserum into her open mouth, eyes closed and nose pinched.

"Hermione, you realize there is no smell to Veritaserum, don't you?"

She shivered as the potion permeated throughout her body. Her mind was still lucid and her body moved under her own will.

Slowly taking in her surroundings, she realized Mal—Draco had asked her a question. Her mind soon processed the answer and her body felt compelled to answer.

"Yes."

"Interesting."

If any other person were to say that, Hermione would not think anything of it. However, it was _Draco Malfoy_ that had said it.

She knew something was up and she was slightly chilled at the thought.

Glancing his way, hoping that nothing was a miss, she noticed that he was simply jotting down some observations on his parchment in an elegant script.

Odd, she felt even more tense.

And now she knew why, he had put down his quill and looked at her, the mischief once again painfully obvious.

"Draco?"

"Yes, _Hermione,_ what is it?"

Her mind's first reaction was to say 'nothing'. Still under the effects of the Veritaserum, pain shot throughout her body. Mild at first, but as she attempted to speak her mind, a jolt of a higher level kept her lie under wraps.

The pain was not unbearable, but it stung nonetheless.

She wondered what would happen to her if she was asked a more serious question and attempted to lie. Her body shook, shuddering.

Before she had more time to contemplate her predicament, her body answered for her yet again, "You're scaring me."

"I see… Hurts, doesn't it?"

She wanted to say 'no' and deny it. Pain once more.

"Yes, " she hissed.

Hermione was surprised to see that instead of continuing their excruciating conversation, well excruciating for her anyways, he simply produced a list of questions that he was to ask her.

Watching him read through the list with a passive countenance, Draco glimpsed up at Hermione's face and then returned to the list.

Even without looking directly at him, she could practically feel the smugness radiating off him in waves so harsh she almost fainted.

"Loosen up, Hermione. I don't bite."

He leaned in closer to her and practically whispered in her ear, "Do you believe yourself to be an overachiever?"

Cautiously, she murmured, "Yes."

"Then this shall benefit you as much as it does me. If you've looked over the questions already, and I know you have, you would notice that the questions seem quite bland and uninteresting. They'll do nothing for our essay. Don't you think we should use our own questions to prove the potion's _... credibility_?"

To both the assumption and the question, she answered, "Yes," although ask her again without Veritaserum and she would adamantly state that the anything a Professor says was not boring, but quite _interesting_.

"I thought so."

"There's been something that has always been quite confusing, and I'm sure the rest of my House would agree, what's the deal between you and the Weasel?"

Ding ding ding. Loophole… or so she thought.

Apparently, even if the question is unclear, if the person under the effects of Veritaserum_ knows_ what the inquirer's _meant_, he or she must answer to the best of their abilities. Fun little fact to include in her essay, however, it doesn't really help her here.

"There's nothing going on."

No pain, odd. She was sure that she'd at least say she felt protective of him and a little jealous over his fling with Lavender. Nevertheless, there it was: nothing.

Oh well, it just confirmed that her feelings for Ron were long since squashed in the summer of second year.

How blasé she must seem.

If Draco had not seen her take the Veritaserum, he would have doubted her honesty. Therefore, he settled for schooling his features into a shocked expression in an attempt to mock her and hiding his own unwanted bursts of joy.

"Well," he grinned toothily, "That's a shocker. I always thought that this was how Christmas would feel if ever it should come early. Tell me, how would Weasley take it once I tell him? Better yet, once I yell it across the Great Hall for all to hear. You realize that at least three quarters of the Hogwarts population, including the teachers, assume that you two would fall for each other?"

She sighed. Questions again. Maybe he didn't even realize that she _had _to answer his questions or else she would be _coerced_ into answering truthfully. Then again, it's Malfoy. Of course he knew. He just enjoyed watching her suffer, typical.

Harshly, she managed to bite out, "Possibly quite horribly. Atrociously. Yes. Happy?," before the Veritaserum could strike at her.

"Like a giddy schoolgirl. Tomorrow it is then?"

Draco wondered to himself exactly which shade of maroon Weasley would turn once he finds out.

"Yes."

He chuckled. This was getting to be quite amusing for him. The Veritaserum works, effectively, too; she was obligated to answer _all_ of his questions.

With his parchment on his lap, quill in hand, and sitting quite comfortably with his back against part of their couch, Draco spoke aloud while writing, "Victim—err... _Hermione_ feels pain if an attempt to _lie_ is made. Hermione apparently does not like the Weasel and admits to being an overachiever. Surprisingly, Hermione _wants _inquirer to tell aforementioned Weasel conversation concerning her disgust for him. Does that seem about right?"

"Yes."

Her eyes fluttered wide. Ron did _not _disgust her; she simply did not like his choices in women. Or his overbearing attitude. Or his possessiveness. Or his temper. Or his attempts to make her jealous. Or his eating habits. Or his childish behavior. Or… wait, what was her point?

Right, Ron disgusted her. No! She loves Ron... platonically of course.

However, some qualities that made her love him, appalls her. There, all better now.

"And yet again, another shock. The Great Hermione Granger agrees with me, the equally Great Draco Malfoy," he winked, "that she is indeed disgusted by the Weasel. That's quite a lot of progress we've made today, yes?"

Compelled to answer, she spat out, "Yes." Now that's one answer she could agree with.

He was right, though, there were some things that she thought she knew about herself, but was proven wrong. She was actually rather excited at finding out another fact she never knew.

Sitting across from Draco with her feet under herself, she urged him to go on, eager for more unacknowledged truths.

A thought came to him, well in reality; it had never left his mind, though not for lack of trying.

She almost keeled over at his next question.

"Come again?" she choked out.

"Really, you silly witch. Did you really not hear? I would have assumed that the Veritaserum should have forced you to answer regardless of whether or not _you _understood the question or not. Magic's a quirky thing," he pursed his lips.

It was true, actually. She could feel the beginnings of the uncomfortable jolts.

The light mood turned quite awkward. Draco felt awkward at having asked the question, though his outward appearance could contest otherwise. Was it too soon to ask her? Frankly, even if she did answer him, he was afraid of finding out the truth.

She really didn't want to answer. She _couldn't _answer. She would not permit herself to answer.

As if she were having an outer body experience, she saw her mouth open and begged it fervently to close, to not reply.

Seeing her mouth forming the words, she closed her eyes and wished the torment would pass.

The pain was throbbing and she could hardly stand it.

Squinting across from her, she could see Draco's face. He appeared to be concerned. Was her pain that noticeable? Her reluctance that apparent?

If she gave the impression that she had something to hide, would he use it against her?

Another jolt, this time she felt as if her skin was being stabbed repeatedly from within her body. Needless to say, the pain was agonizing.

She clutched her stomach. Her hand reached out for his collar and brought him closer to her. Close enough so that he could hear her.

"Draco. Pomfrey. Now. It hurts," she whimpered.

**x**

She was in the hospital now and the pain had still not subsided. In fact, it had increased tenfold.

Draco was at the entrance of the Hospital Wing conversing with Madame Pomfrey. About what, she did not know.

From what Hermione could gather through the intensity of the torture, he was arguing with the MediWitch and pointing at herself furiously.

She had to giggle except due to her pain it came out as more of a strangled gasp; it was not often someone gets to see Draco lose his air of sangfroid.

It was getting extremely difficult to keep aware of her surroundings.

No longer could she remember why she was here or where here was.

Therefore, she had no clue why the last word that left her lips before she passed out complete was, "Yes."

No more agony.

...

**Hmm, what did Draco ask her? I guess you'll have to wait until the next chapter. (Insert evil laugh here.)**

**!REALLY IMPORTANT!: Anonymous Reviewing has been enabled. I didn't even know it was even disabled. But the point is, you can review without logging in now. Yay.  
As usual:**

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**Thanks very much.**


	5. She Sure Didn't

**Disclaimer: nope... not yet anyways... muahhahahhaha!**

...

-She sure didn't-

Relief washed over her sore body and she did the only thing she felt like doing at that moment. She slept.

**x**

Sedated by Madame Pomfrey, Hermione slept away all of Tuesday and continued sleeping well into Wednesday morning.

Outside the doors of the Hospital Wing, Ron was waiting somewhat patiently for Hermione's discharge from Madame Pomfrey's care. Some would perceive this gesture to be romantic, however, Ron only thought it convenient since his own release was just moments ago and was informed that Hermione would be released shortly after. Yet another intimation of their platonic relationship, but Ron didn't perceive such thoughts.

Hermione was told by Madame Pomfrey that she was admitted into the Hospital Wing under the pretense of a potion gone awry. Technically, it somewhat was due to a potion, but not completely.

The great oak doors opened as the girl behind it managed to magick it open beneath the piles of tomes she currently held. She had convinced Madame Pomfrey to lend her some books on healing and the old MediWitch reluctantly agreed so long as Hermione promised to practice caution when dealing with potions.

"Hermione! Over here."

"Hello, Ron."

The short distance between them was easily surpassed by Ron's long, albeit awkward, strides.

"Do you need any help carrying those?"

"It's fine; I'm perfectly capable of carrying them myself, thanks."

She had not meant for the words to come out so harshly, but her mind was occupied with something other than trying not to hurt Ron's feelings. In the depths of her mind, she was carefully hoping to retrieve the remnants of her most recent dream, but it had eluded her. It annoyed her that he was attempting to distract her from her objective.

Somehow, she knew it was pertinent for her to remember.

What she was sure of, was that before her memories had begun to get hazy, she and Malfoy were in the common room. It unnerved her because that was how she remembered her dream started.

The events after and possibly the most important event of her 'dream' was lost in the recesses of her expansive mind. Malfoy had tentatively asked her a question, but she could not remember what _it_ or her answer for that matter

Ron mumbled out an apology and assured her that he was simply trying to help. He didn't mean that she couldn't do it herself, he just wanted to help.

Great, she thought. When she chanced a look at him, his face was red to the very roots of the red hair that was currently a matching color.

She grasped desperately for a subject of conversation that would not incur any discomfort for either of them while still conveying the message that she had not meant to be so short-tempered.

Her efforts were for naught when Ron suddenly proclaimed, "I hate that sodding git."

Hermione could only assume that by 'git', Ron had referred to Malfoy, the cause for his stay at the Hospital Wing.

Before she could get a word in edgewise, he had already begun a rant on why he hated Malfoy, well his_ current _reason for hating Malfoy.

"… the worst partner. There's a conspiracy. Why else would Snape pair me up with _him_? Merlin. Who in their right mind would pair a Gryffindor with a _Slytherin_? Sneaky bastards, the whole lot of them. He had plenty of time to warn me that it was the wrong thing. Probably wanted the entire cauldron to blow up on purpose."

Something in his rant caught her attention.

"Err… Ron?" she asked as she juggled the books into one place and placed her arm carelessly on his to stop his nonsensical talk.

It seemed to stir him out of his one-track mindedness and caused it to focus on her.

Great… _more_ awkwardness. That's just what we need, she thought sarcastically.

Needless to say, she quickly removed her arm and placed both of them steadily under the books to balance them on their walk to the Great Hall.

He looked at her hopefully; for what, she really didn't want to know.

She continued, pretending to not notice his furtive glances, "Repeat that part about somebody warning you that something was wrong?"

Hermione was uncertain if she had ever seen that particular shade of red in nature before.

"It was nothing."

Like she was going to leave it at that. Boys, they really don't know a thing do they?

"Ronald."

And there it is, the famous tone that _all_ women used to instill fear in men.

He sighed.

"Iaddeddragon'sbloodtothepotioninsteadofgremlin'sblood."

Though the sentence was smashed together and spoken at speeds that only Ron himself could understand, and the only reason that he could was because _he_ himself had spoken it, Hermione caught the gist of it.

It figures, there was no way Malfoy could mess up a _potion_. Hermione was forced to admit that the boy had a certain penchant for potions.

The point that Ron tried to get across most importantly was spoken clearly and as concisely.

"But it was _his_ fault. If he wasn't so bloody intent on glaring at every Gryffindor in the room, he would have noticed that I got the ingredients mixed up."

Hermione sometimes wondered if Ron had ever heard himself talk, or if he actually thought about the words he used.

Hermione's sigh was interrupted by Ron's wild hand gestures and loud voice.

"Git conjured up a shield for himself. Didn't even _bother_ to think about shielding me from the explosion."

"You know, if you had reacted quicker than Malfoy, you would have _purposefully_ 'forgotten' to shield Malfoy, too," she thought.

Ron looked at her funny.

Wait a minute.

Shit. Did she just say that out loud?

Considering that Ron had stopped walking, and was looking at her as if she had sprouted another head, she could only assume that, yes. She _did_ just say that out loud.

"Are you defending him?!"

"Ron—"

"Defending the ferret! Hermione. The ferret! Over me!"

"Ron I wasn't defending him, I was merely pointing out that you also would have acted the same way if given the chance. I'm not saying that approve of his actions, but it's true."

A series of accusations of her 'not being a friend' and not supporting him in his 'time of need', he stormed off.

She mentally tsk'ed at his irrational behavior, but she had quickly come to except it ever since second year.

Back then of course, she carried a small torch for him. Puppy love, really. She even had a crush for Harry. So it was really no big deal. She had expected that she had a bit of a hero complex since it had quickly come and gone after they both saved her from the troll. Well not _too_ quickly... give or take a few years.

But, back to the point. The only reason she could stand him back _then_ was because she had _semi-almost-not-really-but-maybe_ liked him, and she was sure he liked her back. The feelings were of course confirmed, but not returned. Now with the feelings rid from herself, she could thing clearly which led to the conclusion that Ronald Weasley was not her type.

They, much like pink and red worn in the same outfit, clashed together far too obviously. She found it absurd that he didn't figure it out yet.

At last, without Ron walking with her, there was no tense atmosphere, no awkward silences; just peace and calm.

However, the peace and calm backfired on her. The more she thought about her elusive dream the more frustrated she got. Only seventeen and she was already going senile. What a pity.

"Oi, watch it—Granger?"

Yes, the girl under all of the books and currently sprawled on the floor _was_ indeed Hermione.

"What happened to _Hermione_, Malfoy?"

"I think we both know what happened to that. I heard your answer loud and clear."

"What are you talking about? What answer?"

A sinking feeling in her gut told her that her dream was _not_ a dream. Now she really did have to try to remember.

Pained by her words and nonchalance by the whole experience, Malfoy decided that it was best to leave.

"Wait—Malfoy! What happened Monday night?! Don't you dare walk away from me, mister!" she pouted.

"What is up with people walking away from me today?" she thought aloud.

**x**

She didn't remember. Was that even possible?

Malfoy was definitely confused. Could she have been in that much pain to forget what, to him, was the most horrible experience he'd ever taken part in?

He saw how she struggled with herself. Her kind-hearted and compassionate nature and her sensible brain were fighting over the correct and truthful response.

It would seem that her brain had won over her heart.

That was what made him ashamed. Well, that _and_ that he could understand why she would answer the way she did.

He had given her no inclination to think otherwise.

And yet, he wanted to answer differently.

He couldn't help it, he wanted at least _her_ to understand him, if no one else could.

He cursed the moment when he decided to even _think_ about asking her.

Malfoy could still remember the first time they had met at Kings' Cross Station.

He was drawn in by her fresh and innocent appearance. There was no way that _her_ parents were involved with anything corrupted and evil like his were.

With Crabbe and Goyle flanking him, he marched off towards her with confidence.

Finding her to be quite intelligent and versed in magical studies, he thought to offhandedly ask of her lineage, for he was sure that someone as smart as her couldn't possibly be a muggle-born.

Blanching at her answer, he turned away and never looked back, never to see the hurt on her face when she discovered the prejudice that lay in the world she was soon to become a part.

For the years following up to their appointment as Heads, Malfoy did _not _seek _her_ out from a crowd impulsively. He did _not_ watch her in the many classes they had together. He did _not_ almost let his grades slip in fourth year when he had first recognized her gentle beauty. He did _not _scowl when everybody else at the Yule Ball recognized it, too. He did _not_ worry for her wellbeing during fifth year when he saw her leave with Umbridge promising to tell of her and Potter's secret. He did _not_ immediately recognize that she was lying because he did _not_ spend his free time thinking about her. And he certainly was _not_ denying anything.

Because a long time ago, he came to terms that he could never have her. She was the epitome of everything that he wasn't. Good. Kind. Gracious. _Honest._ All of the qualities that made Hermione a paragon of good virtue.

He at least consoled himself by pointing out that at least they had a semblance of a truce going on. Or at least he hoped they still did.

**x**

Hermione never quite made it to the Great Hall.

She instead went towards the Head Dormitories to lie on her bed; completely ignoring the rest of the classes after lunch. She'd plead weary from her trip to the Hospital Wing later, they'd believe that.

As she whispered the password, she couldn't help but feel that not only did she not remember what had happened Monday night… she was forgetting something else important.

Not that Malfoy or missing a chunk of her memories wasn't important, but _this_… She just had to remember this.

Maybe if she did, she would finally be able to do something. Her future was still unclear to her. So many opportunities and so many choices. Was that what she had to remember? That she had to pick a future out for herself that made _her_ happy, not others? Possible... but it was doubtful.

**x**

Hermione didn't realize how close she was to the truth.

If she didn't change her present, she wouldn't have a future to worry about.

**...**

**Don't worry, if you hadn't figured out what the 'question' is by now, you'll figure it out along with Hermione. ;)**

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	6. And He Didn't Want to Tell

**Disclaimer: Don't sue! I'm not making a penny off of this.**

-And He Didn't Want To Tell-

...

It was well into Thursday night and Hermione had gotten the feeling that Malfoy was avoiding her.

How was it so easy for him to avoid her when they shared the same bloody living quarters together, not to mention—ahem—lavatory? She really would have to mention to McGonagall to change that little fact later when she wasn't busy. Right now, she was busy pacing in front of Malfoy's door debating whether or not to call him out.

What if he was sleeping? Or worse, what if he was awake?

Ever the little goody-two-shoes, Hermione thought of the consequences of not doing one of Snape's assignment.

She knocked twice on his door.

Listening intently, she heard a thud and a grunt. Then finally, a click as the doorknob turned and the door opened.

He groaned, "What do you want?"

The strained civility in his voice was not lost on Hermione.

"Terribly sorry. Were you sleeping?"

"Of course not, Granger. For you see, I never sleep when it's—," he glanced at the clock, "two-thirty in the bloody morning."

She giggled nervously, "Well you see. I just happened to walk past your door and remembered the Potions assignment—"

"I'm going to stop you right there. You woke me up to do an assignment that Snape postponed due to the abysmal quality of the others' potions?"

Crap. The assignment _had _been postponed to _next _Friday. Of course she _had_ been a little preoccupied what with missing most of her classes this week _and_ her trip to the Hospital Wing. Hermione had paid little attention on her studies and instead dwelled on the Monday spent with Malfoy. She had forgone trying to remember that other niggling thing and deposited in the back of her mind to be brought up when she had her wits about her.

**x**

When it seemed that she wasn't going to respond, Draco slammed the door shut.

Hermione was shaken out of her thoughts.

"Wait, Malfoy!"

Reluctantly, he once again opened the door.

"We still need to discuss when we're going to get together for it."

With gritted teeth, he ground out, "We've already done your portion."

**x**

Cautiously Hermione declared, "I figured as much."

Hermione sucked in a breath of air. From what she had gathered or concluded, she and Malfoy were beginning their assignment on Veritaserum before she had passed out.

She correctly linked his sudden behavior to their little 'experiment' with the dangerous potion.

"But you haven't tried the potion yet, Malfoy. To be able to write Snape's essay properly, you must witness the potion's effects through both observation and firsthand experience."

"And I suppose you have all you need about firsthand experience?" He sneered.

She winced at the malice in his words, but still continued and managed to regain her composure.

Answering truthfully she said, "Yes, I do actually. Pain is something hard to forget. But I need observations, Malfoy."

**x**

Pain, was that really it?

It didn't seem that she would back down that easily.

"Have it your way. We'll do it Saturday, the common room."

He shut the door, adding finality to his words.

**x**

She breathed a sigh of relief.

But not for long, Saturday came quickly as Hermione sped through her missed assignments at record-setting pace. She wanted no distractions in order to focus on Malfoy completely.

Not wanting to let the chance slip away, she was determined to get answers.

She entered their common room with parchment, a quill, and the Veritaserum in her hands.

Seeing Malfoy she quickly stated her intentions, "I hope you know I _am_ going to find out what happened Monday to make you avoid me."

"I am _not_ 'avoiding' you" he air-quoted the words, "I simply ignore certain hypocritical muggle-borns who think they know better just because they're swotty little know-it-alls!"

His response sent her reeling. Did he really think of her that way?

But that wasn't the point to their meeting. She needed answers now.

"Drink. And I'll forget about that little spiel for now, but you'd do better to remember the truce" She tossed a vial to him.

**x**

So thhir truce was still in effect. Good to know before he made a _complete_ ass of himself.

Glaring at her, he swallowed the contents.

"Don't regret anything, Granger, because it will be your fault for wanting to know."

"I won't"

She began by asking him routine questions that Snape had recommended they ask in order to maintain uniformity and to make sure that the potion was working.

Malfoy answered the questions quickly and honestly, as was expected.

Pushing the papers aside, she looked him in the eye. He met her gaze and stared back.

"Tell me what I said Monday evening to make you so 'annoyed' as you put it?"

"I asked you if you thought—if you thought I was a Death Eater." He closed his eyes, "And you said yes."

She broke their gaze.

Draco Malfoy was cornered. He knew what would happen if he didn't answer truthfully if at all, so he gave her the truth. The bloody damned truth.

Although, he had to admit, seeing the conflicting emotions flitting across her face was slight recompense for the pain he felt when he heard it from her lovely lips. Lips that were not meant to slander or utter a single word against humankind's innate goodness. Lips that were supposed to ease his fears, but instead confirmed them.

He still berated himself for asking her that question.

**x**

Once Hermione found her voice, she looked up at him in shock. The only emotion that was neutral to her supposed answer.

"That's not true," she half-cried out at him.

"Veritaserum, remember?"

"It can't be, can it?"

"It is. It also seems that the Veritaserum is wearing off, which means that my _firsthand experience_ is done with."

"Is that why you called me a hypocrite?"

"I'm not obligated to answer that anymore, Granger."

"But I don't! I don't believe that you're evil, Malfoy. No one is, not really, except for possibly _Voldemort_. But you aren't him... you're far from it"

"Obviously, you know yourself less than you thought. Though you are right, I'm not him, but to you... I'm _like_ him."

He left.

She didn't want to cry. She didn't want to believe that she was indeed hypocritical. She didn't want to think about the subject any further.

So she did what she was comfortable with, homework. She finished the Veritaserum essay with a less than Hermione-grade effort and that was that, and she didn't care.

But of course she did care.

She cared about Malfoy's reaction and she cared about rectifying it.

**x**

Dumbledore eyed the professors and they eyed him back.

The meeting was unexpected and no one had a clue what it was about, except for the Headmaster himself and the person who called his attention to the matter, Professor Trelawney.

"I have called you all here to discuss our Heads, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy."

The professors were immediately troubled by the topic.

"Something must be done."

...

**Quite sorry by the delay (almost a year!), but it couldn't be helped. It was a hassle being without internet for months. But it's back. Yay for me. I hope this was worth the wait.**


	7. Casualties of War

**If this chapter is a bit confusing, I'm sorry. That's just the way it came out without revealing too much and revealing just enough for you to still follow. Frankly; it required a lot of edits.**

**If you have some suggestions, I'd be willing to consider it to help the clarity, but I cannot compromise the storyline.**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own the rights to the Harry Potter franchise. Why…what have you heard?**

-Casualties in War-

…

Words of outrage met Dumbledore's request.

"You can't be serious, Albus. You can't expect us to comply," Minerva never usually questioned the Headmaster, but it was high time she did.

"I'm afraid so, it is not a hard request, is it?"

"It would not be hard, no. But it would be morally difficult as a teacher. Why are you so intent on pairing them up for _everything_?"

"It's a drastic measure on my part. I was confident that they would be fine on their own, but something has changed. Perhaps they need a little meddling."

Dumbledore cast a glance towards the other professors and the feedback he got read mutiny.

With a sigh, he continued, "Forgive me, but I see no reason to not do it."

"I'm rather fond of Miss Granger, for one. I do not wish to see her harmed or _worse_."

The others chimed in their confirmation of Minerva's worries.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and supposed it wouldn't hurt to—for this time only—include his fellow staff members in on his intentions

"There will be no intentional harm done towards Mister Malfoy or Miss Granger if they were brought together. It's quite the opposite, really," he paused at their confusion, "Early summer, Sybill here had delivered a most troubling prophecy."

"It was the Eye you see," Trelawney interjected, "It sought me out."

Minerva struggled not to scoff at her and instead settled for rolling her eyes.

"Yes, well. Regardless of the source, the prophecy is what will help us tip the balance in favor of our side if things go accordingly. We certainly couldn't do any worse than what was already foreseen."

"Prophecy?"

"Perhaps, it would be better if I showed you all."

The Headmaster brought out a pensieve and pressed the tip of his wand to his temple and carefully extracted a silvery strand. A memory. His memory.

Bringing it down to the surface of the pensieve, he then whispered a spell to project the contents in three dimensions.

The professors looked intently on the figures while Dumbledore frowned and Trelawney retained an air of smugness at her own abilities.

**x**

_Dumbledore was surprised at Trelawney's behavior. They were walking down the corridor to discuss the incoming students when Trelawney stopped mid-step and exclaimed in a coarse voice so much like her own yet different, possessed._

"_Foretold to lose to Dark—"_

_He listened closely, intent on remembering every detail of her words recognizing what he was hearing as a prophecy of some sort._

"_Light has but one chance.  
__A girl. A warrior. A fallen.__  
The key to the end  
But for which side?_

"_Born into Dark's womb,__  
Coerced into Light's embrace.__  
A boy. A traitor. A savior.  
Her One to befriend  
But how can she?_

"_An earthen girl from a mark which lies,__  
An untainted boy from Earth's riches.  
A strife. A friendship. A choice.  
Together they'll mend  
But when will they?_

"_A stitch in time saves nine,  
Change the future through the past.  
__A will. A way. A need.  
A love without pretend  
But can they fix it?—_

"—_years should change their appointed times from—Albus, are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost."_

**x**

The memory ended and the figures disappeared.

Trelawney wasn't satisfied by the ending of the memory, but it was there nonetheless.

He began to share his interpretation, "An '_untainted boy from Earth's riches_' '_born into Dark's womb_' is Mister Malfoy with pure blood and a history of dark wizards in his bloodline, you cannot dispute. However, Miss Granger… '_an earthen girl_', her muggle-born origin of course, but what of '_a mark which lies'_? Nonetheless, who else but Miss Granger is a warrior for our cause who has great strife with Mister Malfoy? The latter half of the prophecy speaks of fixing their relationship's current state to change their future, _our_ future. Do you not agree?"

"Suppose I believe that the prophecy concerns those two. That does not justify—"

"Minerva, were you not listening? '_Light has but one chance'_. For a reason unknown to us, she is the key and together with him they create the shade of grey that would tip the balance in either Dark or Light's favor."

"I was merely thinking of Miss Granger's well being. Just one second, Albus, is _this_ why Draco Malfoy was made Head Boy?" Her nostrils flared.

"I admit I had an ulterior motive in choosing Mister Malfoy as Head Boy over other equally qualified yet less mischievous and more trustworthy boys. This was it, yes."

"And the shared common room and lavatory?!" Minerva had fought him furiously on the last part before the school year began but he had been unyielding, "You changed the location of the Head Quarters from their own individual dormitories to a shared one."

"Yes, that too."

"That is dangerous for the both of them, Albus."

"You would be overjoyed then, to know that these two were destined for each other from the start even without my meddling."

She gasped, "Impossible."

"Im_probable, _but so very true. Unconvinced from my deductions still, Minerva? You see, I paid a visit to the Department of Mysteries and found something quite peculiar. An orb with both their names, retelling the same prophecy you have all just heard."

"Just because there is a record of the prophecy with their names does not mean that they are fated for one another."

"If you choose to ignore the clues in the prophecy, then no; it does not. Which is why I call to your attention this rune imprinted upon the orb," he extracted a piece of parchment with a rune transcribed upon it.

"What does it mean?"

"Bathsheda, if you would?"

The Ancient Runes professor slowly made her way to the front and examined the parchment and exclaimed, "_Quas comprobo!_ The fates approve! Merlin have mercy."

Dumbledore tucked the parchment safely into his desk once more, "I came to the same conclusion."

"Forgive the ignorant, but an explanation is greatly appreciated."

Bathsheda Babbling turned to grip Minerva's arms, "My dear, Minerva, this rune has only shown up a few times in history for people whom fate deemed _soul mates_."

"So it is unavoidable then? You're telling me that the entire world's safety is depending on those two falling in love?"

"It is not as simple as that, I'm sure. However, essentially it is that. ," Dumbledore faced the entire room of witches and wizards who did not quite believe what they heard; "Do I have your cooperation?"

A squeaky voice in the crowd, it was Professor Flitwick, "Dumbledore, I do not believe in the ends justifying the means. However, your instincts have been known to be correct so far. I will pair them up at every chance, but I will not force them to like one another's company."

"That is more than I had hoped. Thank you. And the rest of you?"

They nodded their approval yet showed their uneasiness in their hesitance.

"You are dismissed."

The professors filed out leaving only the Headmaster and Minerva.

"One moment, Albus. If they are soul mates, why would we need to interfere? Eventually—"

"Eventually is too late. We need it now. I can feel his power growing."

"You mean, _You-Know-Who?_"

"Yes."

"If the two knew of this, they would still not consent."

"How right you are, which is why they will not be informed."

Weighing his options on informing his most trusted ally, he fell silent.

"Albus?"

"Minerva, are you aware of the Malfoys' obsession over purity?"

She did not know where he was leading her. Of course she knew, most everybody in the Wizarding world knew. She merely nodded.

"The extent is quite amazing," he glanced at her and continued once again, "To maintain that level of purity and malicious intent, they have developed a curse. Ingenious, really."

Minerva paled, "What is it? What's going to happen?"

"The curse, _proditor_; it is meant for traitors to the Malfoy bloodline," he paused once more, "It kills both conspirators, Minerva, it _kills_. Within two years of matrimony or _relations_," he couldn't stress that word enough.

The old witch's cheek's colored slightly at the implications.

"We have two roads lying before us. One leads to a dark, unmentionable world where the two will be no doubt feeling a void if they should even _live_. And another, a brighter path, not exactly perfect, but rid of Voldemort," she flinched, "where the two will be happy, for a time."

"They should be informed for that exact reason."

"I am thinking of the greater good! Do you really not see? Our side is destined to lose unless these two are together because there is something about it that changes the future so that our side is able to keep a hold over the balance between good and evil! How can they truly have a '_love without pretend'_ if they knew of the consequences that would result from falling in love?... or not falling in love…"

"And what of Harry Potter? Where is he in all this?"

His eyes regained their softened glimmer for a second before vanishing, "I have no doubt that in the end Harry will face Voldemort and _win_. However, there is something that Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy will provide or do to ensure his chance at it."

"You mean you were _serious_ that you had no idea why those two should be together. You don't _question_ it?"

"I wish I did. Alas, no. They are of vital importance, though, and I will not reverse my decisions."

He pinched the bridge of his nose again.

"I have provided the environment for true love to grow; now they must plant the seed. That is not too harsh is it?"

She was too speechless.

"Other than that, they do have a choice. There is always a choice…We must come to certain terms. We all die eventually. Some sooner than others."

**x**

Sadly, she left, leaving Dumbledore to worry if he was right in his machinations.

Love is such tricky business. Force without being forceful? Urge without really urging? Foster without having a hand in it… the decision was hard on the old Headmaster. But he did it.

Such double standards rising from such extreme conditions. He wanted them to have free will in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled or exacted to benefit Light, yet he would order such a thing of his staff despite their moral dilemma to try and limit the choices of the two.

The unknown, yes, he really detested the unknown. If he knew how the two's union would help their side, he would order them to do just that without having to corrupt the purity of their love and how it would be conceived.

He had not wanted to be this way. He did not like using his students as pawns, but it had to be done. Fate was on his side and that was all he needed to justify himself. Yet he still felt guilty.

In the end he comforted himself with knowing that in war, more than a few died from both sides. This way, less died. Less casualties. Less innocents.

**x**

Something was brewing.

…

**Surprised? So am I with my shady updating history. You should probably overlook the horrible use of Latin, since I'm studying French. **

**.:IMPORTANT:. **

**I should state this now before any of you get confused… Mark is not an insignificant character, he's **_**very **_**important actually. And in this story, don't take what everybody says at face value. Just a little fair warning because this story is about to get a lot longer and a lot more complicated than I had originally thought. Actually, I'm so far off from seeing the end of this; it makes me want to cry. I might have to split it into two different stories. Oh well, enjoy.**


	8. Casualties of Peace

**I'd like to thank Purplehanded for the encouragement and the informed yet slightly misled guesses to the prophecy's **_**grey area**_**. On with the story.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine! Well just **_**the ideas**_**, but neither the Harry Potter series or franchise.**

...

-Casualties of Peace-

September nineteenth.

She was officially eighteen this Sunday. She was a legal adult in both the Muggle World and Wizarding World. Though, her excitement for turning eighteen didn't come close to her excitement when she reached _seventeen_; that magical number that allowed her to practice magic outside of school without consequence.

Per their routine, Harry and Ron presented her both chocolates—white chocolate truffles with raspberry filling, her favorite, _yum_—and three books—_Advanced Spells for the Advanced, a History; Advanced Spells for the Advanced, an encyclopedia; _and_ Advanced Spells for the Advanced, for Practical Use_ all by Adam Vance, a series about which she casually hinted to them.

Harry hugged her tightly, provoking a hostile glare from Ginny. Fortunately, Hermione diffused the situation by quickly breaking apart from him. Though outwardly displeased at her girlhood crush's actions, Ginny mischievously slipped Hermione a discreet brown paper package which contained Fred and George's Patented Daydream Charm for whenever she needed to 'slip away' during any one of her friends' Quidditch talks. Hermione whispered an awkward thanks and calmed Ginny's fears by reassuring her there was nothing between her and Harry.

Though their friendship came by simple association (she was the best friend of Harry, Ginny's perpetual crush, and of Ron, Ginny's brother), she and Ginny enjoyed a comfortable friendship. Close friends, but not _best_ friends. Unfortunately, Ginny was a tad bit jealous whenever Harry was around any girls, this included Hermione.

Ron _attempted_ to overstep his boundaries and leaned in for a kiss (she considered this a lapse—multiple lapses—of judgment) which she deftly dodged. It seems she had the sudden urge to bend down and pick up a microscopic piece of wrapping paper. She went so far as to pretend to be offended by his accusations of avoidance by claiming that it was for the House Elves. For once, Ron wisely shut his mouth not wanting to incur another lecture about her project S.P.E.W she had long given up on, but not its ideals mind you. She still viciously and passionately objected to the abuse and exploitation of magical creatures.

Ron had clearly gotten over her rebuff of him, but maintained hopeful in her _eventual_ acceptance of him. Since Ron was her friend; although sometimes she wondered if Ron would have kept on insulting her had it not been for the troll in first year; she didn't want to hurt him. However, it was hard not to when she became exasperated with her efforts to make him realize that they were incompatible. Though she showed certain distaste for Lavender, she had to confess that she would be content if Ron would reciprocate Lavender's obvious, but genuine, feelings.

She wished him happiness. That had in fact been her birthday wish—for the three of them to be happy.

Her other friends wished her a simple 'Happy Birthday' and bought her _bewitched_ cake, charmed to applaud and sing a birthday song when she entered a room should a even a slice or crumb of cake be present. As a joke, Harry left a bit of crumb in every room of the Gryffindor Tower… though the joke did get old quickly once her birthday passed and Harry couldn't remember where the crumbs were. It took her days to get every last bit and now she was free to walk into a room without having a song sung to her or the sounds of a crowd cheering for her.

Yes, it had been the normalcy—she used the term as loosely as she could consider she was a witch— of time spent with friends she craved for since _that_ happened; she really did prefer to refer to what happened between her and Malfoy as _that_. It was much easier on her mind.

**x**

Upon a seemingly secluded cloud, Mark spent his time watching Hermione, seeing how she had progressed since she left him. There was a knotted kink in the pit of his stomach, wondering if she would choose the same path again only for everything he wished _didn't happen_ happen again before his very eyes.

He perked up a bit, watching the projected image intently. His object of affection closed her eyes for a moment and made a wish.

She wished that she and her friends would be happy.

Oh his sweet Hermione. Live _longer_ and choose the _right _path, the one that he wanted her to take.

When Mark had first brought Hermione to Heaven, Fate was enraged that he had brought Hermione to Heaven, interrupting her following reincarnation's tapestry, the medium with which the three Fates meticulously planned out a lifetime of events for a single person.

Mark had known that her time with him was short and thus decided to visit the three Fates despite common sense; once again irrational behavior did not suit him. He pleaded with them to fix her destiny; he complained that it was all wrong for her. This further angered the Fates.

They _claimed_ to never make a mistake. They _claimed_ that nothing was wrong with her the tapestry they wove for her, that it was what they planned. That _nothing_ deviated from what they had been set in the tapestry. He pathetically brought up that he had interfered, which should make a difference. And they had the gall to sneer at him; it was in _life_ which they dealt, not in _after_life.

However, they grudgingly admitted that each tapestry they wove was double-stitched in the events where free will would dictate. Warning him not to attempt to disturb her tapestry or any other of her reincarnations, the Fates quickly removed him from their presence.

This was what gave him hope. _Free will_, free will would determine whether or not she would truly be happy in her current life. Mark was sure that love had blinded Hermione from rational feelings and he was sure that if she had been thinking rationally, she never would have chosen to die early. And as any man in love would do, he would do whatever it took to make her happy.

Love was irrational. There were many displays of irrational love; both he and Hermione became irrational when it involved love. If only the Council members had refrained on keeping watch over him for a single _second_, he would be down on Earth rescuing her from herself.

He often thought about visiting her to _help_ her think properly before deciding (damn you, accursed irrationality of Love!), warn her not to repeat her fatal mistake, persuade her to _freely _choose the right path.

And after she lived her life _happily_—what he considered as happiness, not what she felt under the love's blindfold—he would be reborn alongside her. As an angel, he had a choice whether or not to be reborn and since he couldn't be reincarnated in her present life—as it would be pointless to have an eighteen year difference between them—he had appealed to the Council to have him reborn with her in her next life. Not able to reject any angel's wish to be reborn, the Council reluctantly approved his wish.

Mark was empathetic towards the Ronald Weasley that was forever a friend, never to be recognized as a lover. So much like himself, but at least the Weasley fellow got to stay by her side. He rectified his earlier thoughts; he was both empathetic _and_ jealous.

He sighed and the images dissipated. His eyes darted to check his surroundings.

"Hello, Mark."

"Hello, Council Elder."

He sighed once more.

**x**

September ended, bringing a slight, but not yet unbearable chill to the air. October rolled around and the chill continued, gradually increasing in intensity.

The weeks following her birthday had been everything _but_ normal, Hermione had noticed a distinct pattern as to how she and Malfoy were paired up whenever an assignment or project required partners. It was hard not to notice when there was an uncomfortable silence between them since _that_ Monday.

She wanted to voice her speculations to Malfoy on their professors' behaviors, but she was admittedly ashamed to face him. Instead, she sighed whenever their names were called one after the other.

One particular Friday afternoon in her Muggle Studies class with Professor Burbage, she sighed. Apparently the sigh sparked a known truth to come to the forefront of her mind.

Malfoy did _not_ have Muggle Studies!

Quite vehemently, she pointed it out to the Professor with fury as her backup for she had rarely if ever spoken to a Professor in such a way.

She had enough of this… this _conspiracy_ against them as it was awkward enough to share the Head Tower with him, she did not want to be joined to the hip with him, too. It caused her to have the most horrible sensation of guilt whenever she was around him.

Correctly deciding it best to duck out early, Professor Burbage abruptly announced, "Oh well, look at that. Seems you're right. Class dismissed."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "We just started _less _than fifteen minutes ago."

"Early dismissal, goodbye." She was gone before her students even made sense of the situation.

Very _maturely_ handled, Professor, Hermione thought derisively.

**x**

Her heavy footsteps warned the few passersby not currently in class of her mood, and they wisely side-stepped her.

She had to find Malfoy.

Turning a corner, she spotted her target walking quite briskly towards her.

"You, I want to have a word—"

"Malfoys first, Granger."

She glared at him, but allowed him to speak first.

"Now tell me. Why is it that just now Professor Sprout attempted to pair me up with you—and stop me if I'm wrong—when you were having class nowhere near the greenhouse?"

She giggled. It seems that he was having the same problem as she was. It was too much for her to handle in the Malfoy-addled and stressed region of her brain. "Actually, I was having the same problem. Professor Burbage just assigned me to you when, correct me if I'm wrong, you have never once in your life took a Muggle Studies class."

**x**

He smiled slightly, her laughter was contagious. A real laugh, not the sycophantic laughter he hears when in the presence of other Slytherins who still feared him.

Hermione dropped one of the books she was carrying after exiting the Muggle Studies classroom when her hands clutched to her sides to keep herself from collapsing.

The sudden movement brought him out of his revelry, and he had a sudden realization. He was talking to her. He vowed that he wouldn't. He vowed to avoid her until school was over. Hell, until as late in their life as possible.

Carefully masking his emotions, he turned around and began walking away.

**x**

Hermione was clutching her sides letting a book fall to the ground, her eyes focused on ground before her laughing at the stupidity of it all. That was until she saw Malfoy's immaculate dress shoes moving away from her.

She righted herself and did something more stupid than their predicament. She grabbed his left forearm to stop him from getting completely away.

Malfoy stopped and looked at her hand and back at her.

She paled and let go as if something had shocked her. Of course, she had to pick _that_ arm.

**x**

Draco Malfoy was hurt, genuinely hurt.

"It really isn't there, you know," he whispered.

And as if she were telling him her deepest secret, she met and held his gaze and whispered back using that famous Gryffindor courage, "I want to believe you."

They silently agreed that any future projects that they were paired up for would be done separately with minimal contact and minimal conversation.

He walked away once more and this time she let him.

His truce with her was supposed to bring them closer together not keep them apart.

…

**Crucial chapter, as was the last one.  
Now you know which life she chose before she got that **_**second**_** chance (why? to do what?), if you read between the lines.  
Merlin, I'm being downright .:**_**cryptic:.**_**. Stick with it and all the loose ends, old and new, will be tied.  
If you have any questions about the story, feel free to ask, and I'll try to clear it up for you.  
Thank you to all the reviewers. Your words really do affect me. If you like the story, it makes me _want_ to update faster (just a hint), though other things might get in the way of me doing so.**


	9. When You Need It Least

**Alternate chapter title should be "Oh, the irony" just because I'm a big fan of irony… though my irony sensor has been a bit off as of late.**

**Disclaimer: Fine, I confess I **_**am**_** J.K…ing just kidding, people. I am definitely not J.K. Rowling and I do **_**not**_** own Harry Potter or anything of value for that matter. *hopes nobody sues***

...

-When You Need It Least-

Prefect meetings and chance meetings in the common room or bathroom—McGonagall didn't approve of her idea to separate their one bathroom into two and then inexplicably stalked off—those were the only instances where Hermione and Malfoy would acknowledge one another's presence on purpose. They delegated certain responsibilities that required frequent discussions or personal sessions to their scapegoats—err… prefects.

On one particular meeting, the prefects and the Heads were discussing who would be doing what in preparation for the traditional Halloween Feast. It went without saying that Hermione and Malfoy avoided eye contact the entire time and only interceded on the other's speech to contribute ideas or point out inaccuracies in an attempt to remain professional.

Hermione began to wonder what had become of the humorous Malfoy in the beginning of the term. She let the memory pass and blamed the Veritaserum. The Veritaserum _and_ _Snape_.

**x**

Yet another block of time had chipped away at Dumbledore's plans.

He was beginning to doubt the effectiveness, but decided that this was enough. He always believed that free will was stronger than Fate. It would be up to them to decide what they would make of it.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. That seemed to be a frequent habit of his now.

**x**

The Halloween Feast went as expected and Hogwarts saw its first snow in early December. Though unusually late compared to their other years spent at Hogwarts, it raised the spirits of students who relished in snowball fights, sculptures, and whatever else they could think of to do with snow.

She sat in the Head Common Room and stared out the window; she envied them. As she was already the least physically oriented person she knew, she spent her time watching others play in the snow rather than playing in it herself. A few minutes ago Ron and Harry, who acted as if they had not a care in the world despite the looming threat she that was You-Know-Who, pleaded with her to spend some time with them. Hermione would admonish the boys about their behaviors and warn them about _Voldemort_ ("He hasn't gotten me yet!"), resulting in an argument where the boys would forget the reason why they were talking to her in the first place and stomp out the door, like their current situation. She would be left to worry alone and nothing would be accomplished; yet they would all be furious at the other party's actions.

Thoughts of the Yule Ball and longing for another one like the one in her fourth year would surface on occasions similar to this. Of course, that meant that there needed to be a Triwizard Tournament and she _certainly_ did not want what happened then to happen now.

She shuddered when her mind came across the memory of Cedric Diggory's lifeless corpse and had caused her to conjure up an image of Harry in the same position with the same glossed-over eyes. Shaking her head furiously to dispel the image, her attention directed on the very much alive Harry below her in the courtyard.

They were always quick to recover after a row. The three had been together for far too long and through too much to _not_ be friends. She waved to Harry, and sure enough, he waved back… effectively distracting him and leaving him wide open for an attack by Ron. She smiled and left the window seat.

What caught her eye left her breathless. It was such a long time ago that she had seen him outside of their formal settings; it caught her off guard.

"Malfoy."

She didn't mean to say anything, really she didn't. It just slipped out.

**x**

Draco stood there shaking out the snow in his hair. There was a snowball fight indoors that he had to resolve before the passages were safe again for him and other passersby.

Her voice signaled to him that there was another occupant in the room. He hadn't expected her to be in the common room at this time. It had been a rule of his to avoid her when possible and face his fears of acknowledging her when not. She _should_ have been outside playing like all of the other unburdened students.

Cautiously, he nodded his head to her in acknowledgment, "Granger."

And that was it. He went to his room and shut the door, his calm façade giving way to hitched breathing.

**x**

The sixth and seventh years from all four houses were celebrating… with alcohol of course. This made Hermione's patrol that much harder since she had to worry for either dangerous or pitiful strays in the corridors.

She stumbled upon a girl who was pissed drunk—or rather the inebriated girl stumbled upon Hermione—in the last leg of her patrol and was currently escorting the girl to the Ravenclaw Dormitories, a tower located on the west side of Hogwarts. In other words, across the castle from where she was standing.

Carefully levitating the girl, Hermione started the trek through the empty hallways, assuming that most students were too busy getting smashed to break _more_ rules by wandering out after bedtime, she dared to walk down seedy shortcuts.

Correctly solving the riddle—the only way to access the Ravenclaw Tower—Hermione was able to safely stow the girl in the girls' dormitories and considered it a job well done, ending her patrol.

She thought to quicken the long trek once again across the castle to her own Gryffindor Tower by passing through the seedy corridors once more. Though she didn't dorm there anymore, she was to celebrate with Harry and Ron before all three of them along with Ginny left for the Burrow the morning after.

There was no offense meant to her parents, but Hermione was adamant against going skiing in the South of France after her dismal experience in her first year. Between skiing and the Burrow, there was just no contest.

However, when Harry and Ginny decided to finally give it a go at a relationship, Hermione's repeated reassurances that there was nothing between Harry and herself—other than a platonic friendship, of course—did little to comfort Ginny as they had before. It didn't help that Ron encouraged Ginny's ridiculous idea of the two's alleged affair because of his grudge concerning Hermione's refusal of him when he finally gathered all of his courage to _personally_ invite her to the Burrow last week. Though, she did accept _Mrs. Weasley's_ offer to stay over the holidays, adding insult to injury. Another spat, of course. One easily amenable given their history, she presumed.

Molly's chocolate fudge and enchanted gingerbread men were definitely worth enduring the awkward or violent moments.

A persistent shadow was left unnoticed.

With the entrance to her own quarters to the right of her, she mused that she had somehow missed the portrait of the Fat Lady while lost in the thought of delicious holiday treats.

In the midst of righting her course, the wind was suddenly knocked out of her.

It was definitely male, she reasoned, yes, male and smashed beyond comprehension. Though through his fumbling with the front of her robe, it was clear what his intentions were, she thought wryly.

Her wand had been jostled out of her robe pocket from the forceful collision. Without it, she was easily overpowered. If only she had more experience in wandless magic.

She needed to concentrate, to not panic, to _think _of a way that might increase her chances of triumphing over her attacker's brute force. There was hope in the old saying: brains over brawn.

He pushed off her robe.

Shoved up against the left side of the wall she allowed only a view of the other stone wall decorated with various paintings expressing their shocked disbelief at the attacker's actions. _Of course. _The painting, the portrait, the entrance, her last-ditch chance.

Oh, the irony. Since their silent agreement, every time she opened the portrait door, she had hoped that he wasn't there. Now, she wished with all her strength that he _was_. Her virtue—possibly her _life_—depended on his presence.

"_The Fallen_."

Her attacker had heard and hissed, "Mudbloods do not speak."

In his fervor to rip apart her shirt, he hadn't noticed the portrait opening.

Hermione's eyes lit up and struggled to push against the person to gain access to a better view of inside the common room.

Seeing her almost escape from his grasp, he violently grabbed her head and slammed it backwards.

She thought of her tolerance was severely lacking when—for the second time since the beginning of the school year—she blacked out from pain.

Her _last_ conscious thought, however, damned Draco Malfoy for not being there when she needed him the most.

…

**I hope you guys enjoy these updates now because when school starts again I don't think I'll be doing much of it… :[**


	10. Behind Closed Doors

**If you hadn't noticed by now, the previous chapters have been edited, just a few fixes here and there, but the subtle changes are important towards the rest of the story… though you probably wouldn't notice until I actually get there. *sighs***

**Sorry for the choppiness of the last chapter, I'll get to editing that, too, once this is finished… or if whenever I'm bored. Whichever comes first.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the Harry Potter franchise and I'm not making money off of this, so don't sue… Please?**

...

-Behind Closed Doors-

Had Draco been informed that he would meet one Hermione Granger on his way back from his patrols, he would've skipped the entire floor altogether. There is something to be said about blissful ignorance.

Instinct directed him down towards the dungeons for some Firewhiskey but his ignorance of the situation that lay before him beckoned him towards the privacy of his own room instead of the rowdy Slytherin Common Room. Plus, a bottle of Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey was kept in the bottom left drawer of his dresser at all times.

Warning bells sounded in his head as he spotted the portrait to his own common room open. What sent chills down his spine were a thud and a frighteningly familiar voice screaming in pain.

He could have easily just walked away from it all like the coward he truly was, but damn it; he was a coward with a conscience. Pathetic, in other words.

"Please, let it not be her. _Please_, let it not be _her_."

There was hesitation in steps. _One step, two steps, three steps, four—_her trademark unruly hair visible.

"Fuck it all…, _stupefy_!"

The sound of two heavy thuds met his ears.

_Damn_.

Damn her for being there. Damn her for being helpless. Damn her for being unconscious so he wasn't able to berate her for her stupidity. Damn _him_ for being pathetic.

He ran the short distance towards the two unconscious bodies. Confirming the girl to be Hermione and the other as—as Blaise Zabini? Since when had the Slytherin that blended in with the wall decorations become a _socio_path? And then there was Granger, another person who chose tonight to assume a different persona. The Granger he knew could take on full-grown wizards and _win_. This Granger—he faltered— this Granger didn't have her wand.

The realization caused his anger to rise to immeasurable heights. He had attacked her while she was _defenseless_. The bloody wanker. She didn't stand a chance in a battle of strength.

It took willpower he didn't know he had to not _Avada_ the boy that lay at his feet just on principle alone. Principle, mind you, not because it was Granger that had been assaulted… or so he told himself. Instead, he _accio_'ed Granger's missing wand and began levitating Zabini—he didn't want to touch the filth that would mistreat women—and physically carried her down to the Hospital Wing. He couldn't help but be reminded of the last time this had happened.

Did his position change in her eyes? He doubted it. There were little to no interactions between Hermione and him that were of significance. She claimed to have _wanted _to believe, him; but did he do anything to deserve it? No… nothing to assuage her suspicions.

Even with his father incapacitated—since Draco's fifth year in a foolish attempt to overtake the Department of Mysteries—he still couldn't shake the prejudices that were directed towards _him_. There were no intimations of his allegiance to You-Know Who. Yet, all observers saw was a bigoted boy, spoilt with all the riches in the world. What they didn't see was the scared boy growing up in a household with ideals that he didn't quite understand but was forced to believe and perpetuate daily. Ideals that a certain muggle-born shattered.

After their first incidental meeting aboard the Hogwarts Express, he believed her to be pureblood. She exuded a superior presence and intelligence which was then proven in the few classes they had together in the following weeks. Upon discovery of her muggle bloodline, he spent the weeks after in confusion. Muggles were not at all what his father had described them out to be. According to his father: muggles had troll-like intelligence, muggles were filthy, muggles were savages, muggles had horrendous appearances and unappealing traits, muggles were _inferior_—she dispelled the instilled image of what a muggle was in his young mind.

He was grateful for what she unwittingly did. She stopped him from becoming a replica of his father—a man who spewed out pureblood supremacy and muggle inferiority while hypocritically following a _half_-blood. The man was no saint, but he had his priorities in order according to his own preference, which is what allowed Draco to maintain a modicum of respect for his father. First and foremost to Lucius was the protection of the Malfoy line. Though Draco and his mother's protection was jeopardized on countless occasions because of Lucius' second priority, the Dark Lord.

Draco wanted nothing to do with You-Know-Who and made it clear to his father last summer on one of his many visits to Azkaban at his mother's request. The haggard, older wizard looked him straight in the eye, saw Draco's resolve on the matter, and told him that to be a Malfoy is to be superior to others. Malfoys were granted an exclusive birthright that gave them the characteristics of a leader, not a follower.

He told Draco all that, before admitting that his time in Azkaban allowed him to review his actions and decisively declare that by following the Dark Lord, it was he who besmirched the Malfoy name. He did not go as far as to declare muggles and wizards equal, for Malfoys were _still_ superior, but he did say that he no longer wanted to eradicate their existence. A big improvement for those who knew Lucius Malfoy, superficially or otherwise.

There was no rejection, no scorn, and no disappointment. Only a warning not to let others know of their neutral alignment and to protect his mother.

For his entire life, Lucius was his role model. Every boy wanted the approval of their fathers and to grow up like their fathers, and Draco was no exception. Despite Lucius' _mistakes_, he was someone who was confident, charming—to those whom he deemed worthy, and strong.

And he believed that he had accomplished just that, though others might claim that his confidence bordered on arrogance, it came with the territory of wealth and intelligence. His charm had gotten him through a few scrapes with a few authority figures and had girls vying for his attention—despite all the rumors cautioning them against him. His physique was hardly lacking and his magical abilities were envied.

So why is it that people threw him looks of disgust when they thought he wasn't looking and cowered in fear when they knew he was? He knew the answer. They thought him evil. Branded by the Dark Mark.

He could easily show them his unmarked forearm and _shove_ it in their own prejudiced faces, but that might raise a few red flags among certain members of his house whose families had close ties to the Dark Lord. Had Lucius not had his epiphany in Azkaban, instead of confessing last summer, Draco would have been forcefully 'bestowed' the Dark Mark at sixteen, a regular age of induction, like some of his other Slytherin classmates. Some wore it with pride away from a teacher's prying eyes while others felt sickened at the proof of their allegiance but could do nothing to change it. The Dark Lord had been recruiting followers younger and younger because of the shortage of purebloods available to him leaving the window of opportunity for rejection next to impossible.

The best Draco could do while still in school was to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary and not belie his current neutrality.

But there was something different this year. Draco felt a strong pull towards Granger, not that he hadn't before. But this pull had a stronger effect on him, a more urgent calling.

The unease in his mind spread to his arms as the aforementioned girl turned slightly. They had reached the third floor when her odd behavior suddenly began. There were also strange mutterings that Draco could not help but hear which thankfully gave him a short reprieve from thinking; he didn't like where his thoughts were heading.

He regarded her mutterings as an audible representation of her dreams or whatever was on her mind, nothing more and nothing less. Though the one about how she was 'going to keep you in that jar forever, Skeeter' followed by cackling, was slightly disturbing.

The most recent one vocalized being: 'cat hair… I can't believe it was cat hair.'

There was little time to dwell on exactly what she meant by 'cat hair' as his face was suddenly jerked down to face hers, "—I want to believe… make me believe, Draco!"

It was at this point that he dropped Zabini, not that the bastard didn't deserve it but it was done out of surprise.

Quickly regaining his composure, he began levitating the assailant once more. She _wanted to believe_. She had said that before, when she was conscious. Draco didn't believe her then as people easily lied to suit their needs, but there her _sub_conscious had nothing to gain from lying to him. And he was apt to believe the she was being honest.

There was a chance for his redemption in her eyes. For the person who unknowingly changed his views to believe that he had done so, was of great importance.

Pushing open the double doors to the infirmary, the light in his eyes diminished … only slightly though.

He groaned. Madame Pomfrey must be out celebrating the oncoming two weeks reprieve from school, in her case: _injuries_.

There was no respect or care in the way Draco slammed Zabini onto the nearest bed while performing a binding spell to eliminate the possibility of escape. Not before he was punished.

Regardless of Severus Snape favoritism of his Slytherins publically, he was merciless against any Slytherin who might tarnish the Slytherin House further. Merlin knows that the other houses despised them, but they did _not_ have to give them a reason for it. Which is how Slytherins never seemed to get punished by Snape to outsiders, all punishments were left unreported, an unspoken law.

He remembered being reprimanded by Snape a handful of times in his years at Hogwarts—his bum remembered it, too. On certain days, Draco would swear that he could _still_ feel the welts.

Pushing all thoughts of his bum aside, Draco gently placed Hermione down on a bed furthest from Zabini, careful to avoid causing more harm to the girl's pitiful state.

A few well-placed _episkeys _and a short trip to the MediWitch's medicine storeroom mended Hermione to the best of his abilities. Checking along the back of her head for any signs of trauma that came from _that bastard_, he felt blood matting her already messy tresses.

There would be hell to pay.

Little did Zabini know, he was left holding the check.

…

**The next chapter will deal with Zabini's punishment, more déjà vu, and awkwardness abounds. A lot of things happen behind closed doors. Can they handle it? *Cackles***


	11. Liquor is Trickier

**I hope I distracted you guys enough with **_**One Day at a Time**_**… it will be finished (faster than this one anyways!). I needed time to extend this chapter, since there's not a lot of action but progression for those two. :]**

**Disclaimer: I'm just a toddler in the JKRowling's sandbox.**

...

-Liquor is Trickier-

Away from people, away from whispers, and away from prying eyes, Draco Malfoy did a good deed. This is an understatement to say the least.

Applying pressure to the back of her with a makeshift cloth made from his robes, Draco left her side only to peruse the Madame Pomfrey's medicine storeroom once more to stop the trickling of blood.

Pinpointing the area he had previously pilfered, he growled. The vials were empty; leaving him without any salve to heal Hermione's wound. The last of the medicinal salve was used on her superficial injuries. Frantically, he looked around the stockroom. There were various _potions_ that would heal Hermione magnificently, _were she able to ingest them_.

Silently berating himself for not properly checking her body for more serious injuries and instead wasted the precious salve on slight scratch marks.

He was sorely tempted to _episkey_ the lesion but reasoned that it might cause internal bleeding since _episkey_ was meant to only heal minor cuts—_Merlin_, if only he had continued using the spell instead of following his fierce desire to use the reliable salve in an effort to be more thorough and precise.

_Good intentions pave the road to Hell_. He had heard the muggle saying from the scarce times his mother had let him wander in the streets of Switzerland a short time after his father's incarceration. One muggle, a male, attempted to console another muggle, a girl, who was sobbing. Now he understood that scene. Merlin did he want to cry out in frustration.

His only resolve was that Hermione was currently lying on a hospital bed with only him to take care of her.

So he stayed by her side, regularly changing her bandages. He had located Madame Pomfrey's cabinet that held the limited supply of sterile wrapping.

**x**

There was a loud bang as a door was slammed open followed by a low groan. The ruckus did not help Draco's groggy state. A few hours ago, satisfied with the stemmed flow of bright red blood he had allowed himself a short reprieve and slept in the chair he carried over to the head of Hermione's bed.

The old MediWitch scanned the length of the room and her eyes landed on Draco, the only conscious occupant. Her eyes practically screamed _explain now!_

Not wanting to incur her wrath as she was quite possibly the only person to help him in his predicament he started his explanation and watched as her cheeks grew red in color.

"Mister Zabini did what?!"

She was tempted to break her oath as a MediWitch and willingly inflict harm onto one of her patients.

Draco doubted that she wanted a repeat and wisely diverted her attention onto Hermione.

"The poor girl. Am I correct in concluding that you've already taken the necessary precaution by staunching the blood flow?"

He nodded.

"What techniques did you use?"

"For her injuries I used '_episkey_' and salve found from your stockroom. Gauze, found in your stockroom's cabinets, was used to bandage her head wound."

She made a little noise of approval, "Very well, Mister Malfoy. From what I can see, it's nothing that one of my potions cannot fix. You may return to your dormitories, but _first_ take that ruffian out with you to Professor Snape."

Sensing protest, Madame Pomfrey raised her hand to silence him and continued, "Or, if you'd like, you are welcome to come back for a status report on Miss Granger's welfare. Then, would you quietly go to your dormitories?" Her headache was growing worse. She diagnosed herself with a massive hangover. Like the muggle world, the magical world made no progress whatsoever in authentic hangover cures. Except for the dreaded option of no alcohol at all, but where's the fun in that?

She eyed him and irritatedly snapped, "Are _you_ going to take him or should _I_?"

Draco sneaked a peek at Hermione before unbinding Zabini and casting a variant of the _locomotor_ spell, effectively rendering him motionless and levitating just ahead of Draco.

**x**

One Severus Snape had one colossal hangover with zero cures. To think a potions master was able to brew any potion an imbecile could point at, but not an affliction caused by the simple over consumption of liquor.

He would have to bring this issue up with the Ministry at once. Possibly organize a research team focused solely on hangover cures. Not too farfetched considering half people of age, and some not, regularly suffered from the accursed malady. They'd practically jump at the proposal.

Reaching for his wand to cast another cooling charm on the cloth that lay on his head, heavy short knocks in rapid succession caused him to promptly drop his wand and the cloth to slide off.

The only one allowed even near his inner sanctum without being jinxed was Draco, his one and only godson, who was currently grating on his nerves and interrupting his brooding.

Grabbing for his wand once more, he flicked his wrist allowing entry for his godson… and another figure.

"What is the meaning of this, Draco?"

"_This_," he gestured towards Zabini, "is the result of an alcohol-induced fuckup!"

Severus winced. Too much unnecessary noise.

Urging the boy to quiet his voice, Severus motioned for Draco to continue. Relaying the events starting from his trek down to the Head Common Room to their visit to the Hospital Wing, Draco then went into a full-blown rant about something along the lines of roaches and snakes. Severus wasn't able to follow it well enough with his headache threatening to split his head open, but he got the gist and his fury was growing in direct proportion to his headache.

Slowly, Severus spoke, "Unbind the boy." Draco stopped his rant, complied and backed away. He recognized that voice. It was the voice he used just before he did something particularly evil and _inventive_. His bum tingled and he shuddered.

Zabini was relieved that he had control over his muscles once more, but the relief was quickly overpowered by unbridled fear. He cowered under his Head of House's gaze.

"In light of your unique transgressions, I believe unique punishments are in order, don't you, Mister Zabini?" The right side of his lips curled into a frightening grin, "I recall a recent conversation with Filch about some archaic punishments. It was quite enlightening. Too bad it was put to an end. But then again, too bad for you no word will be uttered about this. Am I correct?"

The boy had no choice but to nod his head and whimper.

"I believe his fondest wish was to _string students up by their thumbs_? Let us take that one step further. You weren't planning on having any offspring were you?" Zabini stiffened significantly. "Good…Oh, Draco, you're still here. I thank you for bringing this to my attention and bid you goodbye. It's best if there were no witnesses."

The wooden door closed with a sickening lurch as if foreshadowing the evil. Hearing his Professor's previous words of torture, he smiled thinking that the bastard got whatever was coming to him.

He had merely taken a few steps down one corridor when a bloodcurdling scream rang echoed. Though Draco himself offered no sympathies, Draco's manhood involuntarily twitched at his professor's insinuations. Downright _evil_.

The Head of Slytherin House always did have creative ways—distinctively _evil_ ways—of keeping his students in line.

The brisk walk to the infirmary was just that, brisk. There were no interruptions or stops along the way. No lower years bothering him with their incessant questions, no friends stopping him to chat, _nobody_ in general. He found this odd considering on a slow day as Head Boy there were no less than two students and one teacher, at any given time of day, asking him to do some odd job or another; but he chalked it up to the teachers and students still off celebrating the upcoming holidays.

**x**

Hermione awoke to a gentle prodding by Madame Pomfrey and smiled wryly at the familiarity of the situation.

The MediWitch had just informed her that Malfoy carried her all the way from their common room to the Hospital Wing with the assailant captured and bound. Without a reply from Hermione, the older witch continued, "There were no severe injuries on your person, but Mister Malfoy made sure to heal your scratches and abrasions."

Her hand went to her head feeling a slight discomfort around her head.

Admonishing the girl gently for touching the bandaging, Madame Pomfrey also explained that _that_ injury was only moderate and properly taken care of and that after a quick scan using her wand, there was no internal bleeding nor were there any damage to her brain, just pain that should abate after she swallowed the vial of _poenasola_—a potion that promised to relieve a person from pain.

Not known for her empty promises, Hermione did as the witch told her and of course it worked… though she couldn't help but wonder if the cure was worse than the affliction. The potion had a revolting taste and an even worse aftertaste.

She grimaced and was sure that she'd remember the taste for weeks to come.

This is how Malfoy found her.

**x**

"Oh, Mister Malfoy. There you are, I thought you'd be back sooner."

"Not late enough apparently. Is that how you greet your savior, Granger?"

"Quiet you. It's the potion I'm disgusted at." She gestured toward the empty vial that formerly contained the medicinal potion. She formed a half-teasing smile on her lips. "Or you can wait about five minutes for the lethargy to wear off and I'm sure I'll be disgusted with you, too."

If it were not for her facial expression, Draco would have been disappointed at his progress in her eyes—he would never regret saving her, mind you—but thank Merlin he caught it.

"And give _me_ about five minutes until I stop being thankful for your welfare and start inflicting some damage myself," he joked.

Ah, they were talking to each other openly… well it was really playful bickering, but that was alright, too.

"So sorry. Let me fix that for you." Mustering up her most sugary sweet smile and puppy dog eyes, and in a saccharine voice—too sweet to _not_ be poisonous, he thought—she cooed, "_My_ _hero_."

"I'll pretend you didn't do that sarcastically and thank you for the compliment. Madame Pomfrey is Granger free to go? I'm sure that her _friends_ are waiting for her now and I'm willing to escort the _princess_ to her destination."

Confused, but wanting to be rid of their presence to nurse her hangover-ridden body she replied, "Yes, yes. Clean bill of health. I'll just remove the bandaging first."

**x**

They both wished the MediWitch a Happy Christmas before leaving.

Malfoy had offered to walk her to Gryffindor Tower as a precaution and she thanked him. As neither were willing to break the silence, Hermione stared out of the adjacent windows towards the sun. There was very little light shining in the windows, though the sky had taken on a breathtaking orange and purple-hued tint.

He caught her staring and remarked, "I don't believe I've ever seen a sunrise quite like that, have you?"

Her breath caught and she paused her walking before registering his words, "No. Neither have I."

As they made their way into the inner hallways and to Gryffindor Tower they could no longer see the sky or natural lighting.

In front of the entrance to the tower were not Harry and Ron, but a note magicked to a disgruntled Fat Lady who was displeased that her portrait had been used as a common message board.

Gingerly taking the note into her hand she read:

_Hermione_

_Where are you? You've missed the train._

_Love,  
Harry & Ron_

**x**

Draco found the appearance of a note where her friends should be peculiar. Reading over her shoulder, his bewilderment grew.

What were those two on about? It was barely sunrise, he caught himself—_damn_. Had a night and day passed while they were on their little escapade? He had a devious thought and could only hope so, for that would mean that for two weeks they would be alone without outside influences poisoning her against him even further.

Her sharp gasp pierced his heart. And he was ashamed of his ideas.

Stupid, stupid Draco, he thought. _She_ would want to leave and enjoy her holidays with her _friends_ a load more than she would want to spend it with him.

He immediately apologized to which she slowly replied, "No, don't. It's not your fault. Actually, I have to thank you. So, thank you… Draco."

A soft smile graced his features while her eyes darkened and her face paled slightly, "With that said, I would be even more grateful if you were to never mention it again."

"Well, _Hermione_. Your secret is safe with me for whatever reason, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. But I still feel the need to apologize for your ruined holiday plans."

"It's going to certainly be different staying here with you, but there's no changing it now. Besides, you must miss your mother, too. We're both not where we want to be. It's better to make the best of things."

He snorted. He was exactly where he wanted to be. No visiting Lucius in that damned prison, but quickly panicked not wanting her to jump to conclusions, he confessed his other reason for not wanting to go home, "Yes, I miss her, but what I will not miss are the 'coincidental' meetings with the daughters of her friends."

"Oh my," she snickered.

Draco decided that he liked her better like this, laughing instead of being apprehensive or afraid in his presence.

**x**

She could count the number of times she had laughed in front of him on one hand with fingers to spare. And it brought dark thoughts to the last time she _did_. It sobered her immediately.

"Draco?"

Her serious tone caused him to stiffen. "Yes?"

"Please believe me when I say," a pause, "I want to believe you, I do. It's just the past few years with you weren't exactly pleasant. This is the only year you've acted in a manner other than _hurtful_ and the year has barely begun." She began to hyperventilate a little, but managed to get out, "Time. I need time to make sure that you're not going to turn around and throw my trust back into my face and hurt me both emotionally and physically.

"The truce, the veritaserum_, Zabini,_" when Draco told her it was Zabini she wanted to hex his balls off but was assured that he would have nothing of the sort left after Snape was through with him, "You've done more than enough to prove to me that you're not as evil as they say you are… but I'm afraid of trusting you. For now. It _will_ change, but these things don't happen overnight. I swear."

She took in another gasping breath, "I can't open my heart to you without expecting it to get stabbed repeatedly, but I'm hoping that'll change. Just be patient. Do you believe me?" She had not wanted to expose her thoughts to him so early, but he needed to know after all he's already done for her. And she needed to clear the air between them before it suffocated her.

So as the fog lifted, she hadn't expected to see such a bright-eyed smile and a 'yes' escape his lips.

And now two weeks with him didn't seem so bad.

…

**I dare you guys to find me a working hangover cure. Though, some tips to **_**lessen**_** it is to drink clear alcohols and/or massive amounts of water and aspirin before and after you sleep, or so I've heard! :**_**coughs:**_**.**

**The spells Draco used to 'move/ levitate' and 'immobolise Zabini' are '**_**locomotor (**_**object**_**)'**_**(in this case Zabini) and '**_**locomotor mortis'**_** (commonly known as the leg-locker curse)****, respectively. Due to their similarities in incantations, you can see why I chose just to leave it as a 'variant of the **_**locomotor**_** spell.'**_**  
Poenasola**_** is a corrupted form of 'pain relief' in Latin.**

**//Candy is dandy, and liquor is quicker.  
But reviews are my crack, no time to snicker!//**

**Such subtlety. wink wink**


	12. Defining Words

**So good news first: I finished the outline. Bad news: I finished the outline… and there's going to be a sequel. I'm going to estimate about seven more chapters until I call it done and start on the sequel.**

**Disclaimer: I'm just a toddler in the JKRowling's sandbox, nothing more than that.**

...

-Defining Words-

Draco was sitting in a lounging chair in his quarters with a dictionary in his lap. His eyes scanned the pages and stopped, his finger marking the location.

_Surreal. adj. 1. having an oddly dreamlike quality._ Also, describes Draco's last two weeks.

He flipped back a few pages to locate another word.

_Statement. n. 1. a declaration; 2. a presentation of opinion or position._ Or in other words, Hermione's actions on the first Monday of the winter recess.

In a sentence, one could say: Hermione's _statement_ caused Draco's life to become very _surreal_.

That Monday, he could remember sitting down to breakfast in the Great Hall at the single table meant for all remaining stragglers to occupy as Hogwarts was scarce of students during this time of year as it was every year. However, the reason behind it was graver than the simple need to go home and visit friends and families. There was an underlying fear. It was an unspoken rule to never discuss matters of _Voldemort_ and the looming war as to not disrupt their only safe haven away from such matters. Though, it was obvious from the scuffles among the students who kept strong opinions on the war that the rule was often broken.

Thus with such nuisances out of the way, on that morning of the twentieth of December, there was nothing to impede his partaking of food. Yes, nothing out of the ordinary. One might say too ordinary, but that one wasn't Draco Malfoy. The blissful ignoramus that he was, he did not recognize the portents or heed the quiet before the storm.

The storm that arrived in a hand-knit jumper and grey stockings with the intent to _get to know him_.

Hermione spent that morning in an awkwardly animated conversation with Draco and her various professors around her. Dumbledore was pleased at her actions, while the rest of the staff who bothered to show up were nursing their hangovers—instead of remaining in their chambers to sleep it off like so many others.

Severus Snape came midway through and when questioned about his tardiness, he simply answered that there was a snake in the common room that had to be exterminated before the students got back. He purposefully made no eye contact with either Draco or Hermione.

And then it hit them both, Zabini was not present. Hermione grinned evilly like a Cheshire cat. Draco had told her of Zabini's consequences as a result of his stupidity ("He deserved every bit of it; I'm just a bit sad I couldn't do it _myself_!" She ignored Draco's winces during the retelling.) because she had trouble sleeping that night. She refused to think that she was afraid of such a smarmy bastard.

It was a pleasant memory that Draco liked to keep tucked safely in the back of his mind only to bring it to the forefront every so often. This was darkened only by the hanging presence that their casual conversations would be disrupted in a mere hour.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Hermione casually remarked from across the low table on a chair similar to his own that she would like to meet Harry and Ron upon their return.

Carefully speaking, he told her it was not a good idea considering their history.

"But we had the same history, and we're fine now."

"I had to save you twice from a life-threatening situation and even then, you're still only just beginning to trust me."

"…."

He was a bit puzzled by her silence. Suddenly, he spoke, "You're not suggesting that we actually _try_ to—"

"What? No, of course not. Unless, you're okay with that." A look from Draco. "No, of course not. No, I didn't even think of that until you said it. But do you believe it'd be such a bad idea?"

"Manslaughter is not something I'm particularly fond of, Hermione. Attempted, or otherwise."

"No, not that. But, what's so wrong about letting them know of our friendship?"

"Are you mad, woman? Think of their reactions. They'd sooner hex me then speak allow me to even stand near you. Use that famous brain of yours."

Not happy, but compliant, she stood and made ready to leave to greet Harry and Ron without Draco, "One day, Draco Malfoy, one day they will know. And I suggest you best take the advice of one Alistair Moody—or was it Barty Crouch, Jr.—No, not the point is: _Constant Vigilence_." She cackled.

She really was getting too good at that. Maybe he was rubbing off on her. No, he didn't cackle, but he certainly did have some sinful qualities about him.

…

**Sinfully delicious maybe.  
Just a short, very short! transitional chapter since I'm having less and less time. I really shouldn't have procrastinated on my homework.****I'm also thinking about changing the genres… it has its moments, but I don't think I can classify it as humor anymore with the upcoming chapters. I think I'll create a poll?  
You guys probably didn't notice, but according to the calendar, my storyline is in 1999, when they're supposed to have their seventh year in 1998, darn. Well, it's not really important, just a niggling little thing. :]**


	13. Reviewing Actions

**The "action" should start right around here… the real one. :]**

**Disclaimer: I'm just a toddler in the JKRowling's sandbox, nothing more than that.**

...

-Reviewing Actions-

The professors spared no time in getting back into the swing of school sessions and began assigning their students review materials for the upcoming NEWTs. They were all to take a study partner to be assigned by the professors. In compliance with Dumbledore's plans, Draco and Hermione were compulsorily paired together in every class they had with each other.

Professor Burbage made sure not to mention Draco's name in Hermione's vicinity less the Head Girl catch on… or worse lose her temper.

Tuesdays after dinner were spent in the library while Thursdays after dinner were spent in their private quarters where the two would review all spells and information from the past seven years spent at the magical school.

They were often spotted in the library studying together at a respectable distance from one another. Nothing that could be misconstrued as inappropriate occurred under the curious stares of their classmates. However, alone in their tower, they were more often than not sitting much closer together acting very much like the friends they were.

There were playful touches as one tried to get the attention of the other to either point out a mistake or embellish on an idea. Touches that they both delighted in implementing and receiving.

As time went on in the stable schedule, Hermione would catch herself looking at him for minutes at a time and would look away quickly hoping he didn't notice. It started with a simple glance while he was nibbling at his quill's tip, each time leaving a bluish hue upon his lips. And Hermione's imagination would run wild. What would he do if I did _this_? Would he flinch? Run away? Push meaway? Or would he let me… And it would all come to end as soon as she realized her train of thought.

Little did Hermione know, Draco had noticed her staring. And it unsettled him. He became very aware of both his body and Hermione's body since that winter break, that felt so long ago, but in reality was only seven weeks prior.

He was once very lucky to have touched her hair on one of their study sessions. Upon contact, he remarked of its softness, just as soft as or even softer than the other girls who prided themselves on their appearances. Despite the deceiving bushiness, Draco was sure that if he ran his hand through it, there would be no tangles, but individual tresses that would wrap around his fingers, caressing them as she might.

**x**

Today was a Thursday. And it felt like ages since she last saw her friends, meaning Harry and Ron, not Draco. Actually, _saw_ them and talked to them, unlike in their many shared classes in which she would perpetually be paired up with Draco, leaving Harry and Ron to their own respective partners and her focus on something else.

With her hectic schedule, she tried to pencil in time with her friends every chance she got, but that was just it. She was penciling them in, only to erase them later. Something always had a way of interfering with her plans that would have to be dealt with first. But mealtimes, those were things that she would never skip, not because she was hungry, but because she had the chance to spend time with her friends.

There were the occasional trips to the Gryffindor Tower to help her boys review—their idea, not hers—in order to pass their NEWTs and become Aurors. Compared to those trips, meals were definitely better because they made a new rule to never discuss schoolwork or tests at the table.

This particular dinner, Hermione was watching Harry silently. He seemed troubled, but thinking it was because of his classes, she said nothing. She just watched. However, when he made to excuse himself after Snape and Dumbledore left their seats at the staff table.

She turned to Ron, "What was that all about?"

"Dunno, he wouldn't tell me when I asked. Pass the treacle tart?"

"Here." She would make a note to ask him of it later.

As usual, Hermione left the Gryffindor Table first, exactly ten minutes before Draco Malfoy would leave the Slytherin Table to start their study session. It would not bode well to the rest of the students that they were cooperating willingly, or so Draco had said.

**x**

She was staring again. Draco could hardly stand it. He kept rereading a question on his Transfiguration review sheet, but he couldn't concentrate on a single word. He wasn't even sure he spelled his name right. _Draycol Melfooa_… no, he was sure he didn't spell his name correctly. He crossed it out impatiently.

But, it wasn't fair. She'd been staring at him for at least ten minutes straight and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

It was pure frustration. The longer she looked, the more he wanted to do something. Reach out and touch her, anything. He turned to look at her, expecting her to break her gaze in embarrassment, but she didn't.

Instead, their eyes locked, and he swore that if she didn't look away soon, he would have to do something that he would regret later on. Breaking the staring contest and about to speak, he was quickly silenced. Not that he was complaining much.

He felt her lips on his, so soft and pliant. One of her delicate hands threading through his hair while her other kept her propped up while she pressed against him. Grabbing the hand that helped keep her up, he held it captive in his own. He now had her leaning into his chest. Freeing his other hand, he dropped his quill and cupped her cheek tenderly, rubbing it softly in small circles with the pad of his thumbs.

He deepened the kiss and tasted her, like the sweet ambrosia of the Gods of Olympus. And he drank like a man trapped in the desert. His life-source.

She broke away from him with a smile and began her previously untouched assignments leaving him to question whether or not it had really happened or if he had been daydreaming once more as he was wont to do in her presence.

**x**

She didn't understand how it happened. It started out as just looking at him, and then her _What if's_ ran through her mind, and she did it. On some hidden desire's impulse, _she _kissed _him_. And it was _nice_. There were other words that might have been better fit to describe it, but that was all she could think of before having a breakdown.

Her _What if's_ took another sudden downturn. _What if_… it was nice for her, but not for him? Oh, Merlin. They served garlic bread today at dinner, did she have any? She couldn't remember. Her heartbeat began to quicken.

Then, as quick as her anxiety had come, it disappeared, soothed. Replaced by his warm hand on hers. Funny, she thought, she never expected him to be this warm. His pale skin and hard exterior always led her to believe he was like marble, cool and smooth to the touch. It was only now that she knew that she was so deliciously wrong.

**x**

Thankful, she didn't question him and thankful he was left-handed, Draco was quite certain that he wouldn't do any serious thinking for the rest of the night.

They were on a fragile bubble, ephemeral at best, but he didn't ever want it to burst.

**x**

In the Headmaster's Office, there was a semi-irate Professor Snape who questioned the effectiveness of the plans.

"Severus, I am shocked. Surely, of all people, you must have noticed their progression?"

"What progression? All I have ever witness them do were sit, study, and work together. Although far more civilly than I would have guessed."

"But there it is. Shall we look over their actions?"

"I have seen it with my own eyes, Albus. There is nothing remarkable, nothing indecent, and nothing to hint at anything _more_ than nothing at best."

"Are you sure?"

Humoring the Headmaster just slightly, "Very much so, yes. But I suppose you're going to prove me wrong?"

"You are more perceptive than I, Severus. Tell me, how do they sit or stand next to each other?"

"Always the same distance apart, one foot, not matter the setting or time."

"I have my suspicions about that, but first. A foot, you say, exactly just one?"

"You cannot be serious to think that they calculated as such."

"Alas, that is exactly what I am thinking. Childhood rivals would strive to be as far apart as possible—"

"You've put a stop to that possibility quite nicely."

"—However," he continued without any indication of hearing Severus' interruption, "I would think that to work in pairs on potions require said pair to be in a closer proximity, no? Much less than a foot considering the workspace allotted. But to keep a foot's distance, nothing more and nothing less, at all times. Does it not seem as if they are hiding something?"

"Hiding something, that's preposterous."

"Think what you will, Severus. But I must advise you to watch them much more carefully when you chance upon seeing them interact. It's quite interesting. Amusing to an old codger such as myself, but you might gain some entertainment out of it yourself."

"Indeed. Excuse me, Albus, I must excuse myself now." He made to leave.

"Of course, do watch them, Severus?"

He was now quite curious at his Headmaster's pleading words, as if worries or unsure, but that has never happened before.

Stepping out from behind the stone gargoyle entrance, he chanced upon a hapless Harry Potter trying desperately to guess the password until he saw the person stepping out and grimaced.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mister Potter. You should not take to disturbing the Headmaster whenever you fancy. It's disrespectful and rude."

He said nothing, knowing better to rise to the bait. Severus looked at the boy once more and took pity upon him. "Am I to assume that this is an important matter?"

Potter's shocked face would forever be a stockpile clip in his memory banks, "Yes, _Professor_."

"Well, far be it from me to keep the Boy-Who-Lived from his heroic duties. _Puking Pastilles_."

Potter ran inside without another word. Ingrate.

**x**

"Harry, I was not expecting you. Tic-tac? It's another muggle creation that I am very fond of, I particularly like the orange ones."

"No, thank you, Headmaster. I have to tell you something important."

"Oh?" He said nothing, but selected an orange capsule from the crystal bowl.

"My scar, it's hurting again."

…

**You didn't expect to **_**not **_**have Voldemort in this fic, did you? That would just be a copout… and it's totally ruin the rest of my storyline.****  
A tad short, but I think I'm rushing to get it out. A hit and run storytelling.  
The orange tic-tacs are just something that I'm craving right now. :[**


	14. Under Her Skin

**I am sorry to say this does not have as much Dramione action as I would have liked, if you prefer the fluffy type, though. I suggest **_**One Day at a Time **_**for your daily sugar needs; I'm told that it's quite hilarious. :]**

**Disclaimer: For what, the third time I'm using this disclaimer? I'm just a toddler in the JKRowling's sandbox, nothing more than that.**

...

-Under Her Skin-

Not taking no for an answer, Harry dragged Hermione out of the library and Ron out of the Great Hall before stepping into his dormitories and locking the door.

He looked at her expectantly. "Hermione, would you…?"

"Of course, Harry." Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that this little talk of theirs would be in regards to what Harry had done after leaving dinner. She fondly thought of her _own_ little experience and blushed slightly before returning to her set task of casting a silencing barrier around the room eliminating the possibility of eavesdroppers. "_Silencella_."

Ron licked the last bit of pumpkin juice from his lips, "So what's this about then? I promised Lavender I'd take her for a walk around the Great Lake later." A pointed look at Hermione.

"Not going to happen, Ron."

"I thought as much, but it doesn't mean I can't have fun with it." He'd been taking her rejection very light-heartedly lately. For that, she was grateful. Though perhaps his attitude would change if she were to tell him of Draco and her actions. Tactless brute or not, he would be hurt. Their bonds were likened to filial piety. You can dislike your blood relations as much as you want, but when it comes down to it; your loyalties will always lie with them.

"Focus."

They muttered their apologies to Harry who was looking quite stressed since less than twelve hours ago when they had last seen him.

He rubbed his jaw, one of Harry's tells; this was serious. "I think you two should sit for this."

Ron took a seat on the bed closest to them, while Hermione opted instead to sit at a desk; both attentive.

"My… scar." Hermione gasped but knew better than to interrupt. "It's been hurting for the past few weeks, since Christmas actually."

Ron's freckles became more pronounced by the pallor of his now sallow skin, "But it's hurt before, it's always hurt." It was as if he was silently pleading for Harry to tell him that it was nothing, but he couldn't.

"It's more than that. When the pain passes, I'll start to feel happy _—ecstatic_ even."

"Hermione? Wh—What? Hermione, go on. Tell him it's nothing, you're the smart one. Go on."

"Not now, Ron. Why didn't you tell us sooner, Harry? Since _Christmas_?"

"I had to be sure. And now I am."

"Why now?"

"I talked to Professor Dumbledore about it."

Ron piped up from his self-delusion, "Well, that explains why you left after Snape and he left. But what exactly did Professor Dumbledore say?"

"He said—he said something _big_ is going to happen, but he couldn't tell me what. And now that he knows that Voldemort is happy, it could be even worse for us."

"Oh, what a surprise. How does he expect to win this thing if he keeps his hero in the damn dark about everything?"

"Ron, he has his reasons."

"But aren't you tired of it? They treat us like kids when we've been put in danger more times than I can count _and_ we came out more than alright."

"And I suspect that's why." Harry who'd been watching the exchange pensively shocked the two with his sudden input. "I don't think they're too keen on exposing us to the Dark more than necessary, which is to say not at all."

"So I don't suppose we'll get any more information until it's time."

"And you promise to keep us up-to-date if you get any more _signs_ or anything like that?"

He nodded.

"Well, then I suppose it's time for us to enjoy what little time we've got left; apparently 'something big' is coming'" Ron ended dramatically.

"One moment, _finite incantatem_, best not to leave anything suspicious behind," Hermione reprimanded before traversing the stairs back to the common room.

"Do you have to go Hermione? It's been so long since we just sat around and did nothing. I can cancel my plans with Lavender, she'll understand."

Hermione doubted it, but acquiesced nevertheless. She had wanted to go relax in her own tower hoping that Draco would be there, but acquiesced.

"Alright, are we heading somewhere? or just the common room?"

"Just the common room. It's the simple things that are the best things in life. It's too bad we won't actually _realize_ it until we die. I mean we know to appreciate it, but do we really?"

"Why, Harry Potter, have you been reading American literature behind my back?"

"What can I say; _Our Town_ is a pretty nice play. Borrowed it," they knew well enough that it meant he nicked it, "from Dudley over summer."

Hermione clicked her tongue but could say nothing. He nicked something, but then again, it was a book… one that he read and enjoyed. Instead of debating the morality of his actions, she chose to make herself comfortable on a lumpy couch. Harry sat down beside her, smug at having made her speechless.

"Where'd Ron go?"

"Ron go where?" Ron's red hair peeked out from the portrait with Lavender in tow.

"Well, that was fast."

"I met her on the way."

The couple took the loveseat across Harry and Hermione. The two females shared a look of mutual distaste until Hermione turned to Harry again.

"So why'd Ginny have to leave after you fetched me from the library?" Hermione spoke disinterestedly. She had sworn that the youngest Weasley's dislike of her grew over time instead of abating. And the glare she sent Hermione's way as she departed cinched it.

"I didn't want her to know about _the thing_." Harry motioned silently to Lavender and Hermione dropped the subject.

The old friends got to talking about their past adventures in their younger years and Lavender grew restless and called Parvati over. This wouldn't have bothered Hermione had the subject not turned to Quidditch, but as it did, Hermione had two choices. To either listen to the Quidditch talk and learn of recent events in the Quidditch world _or_ listen to the two twits in front of her, no doubt, gossip.

Hermione wasn't too fond of gossip as it had affected her and Harry negatively many times, but other times she found it entertaining. Entertaining, mind you, not valid till proven otherwise.

She covertly tuned in.

"—did not. They absolutely did not." Lavender squealed. It was a wonder how Ron hadn't complained once about the squeals when his ears were right next to the two of them.

"Oh, but they did. Fainted, each and every one… of the girls that is."

"Just by his smile?"

"Just by his smile."

"Merlin, I know he's handsome, but a smile doesn't change that much, does it?"

"Ask the girls with Madame Pomfrey, _they'd_ beg to differ."

"I'm still a little skeptical," Hermione's eyebrows shot up from Lavender's display of vocabulary skills, "Tell the girl, Parvati." She smiled mischievously obviously just wanting to be told the story once more for the fun of it, not that Hermione was complaining. She was curious about whom this mysterious man would turn out to be.

Parvati smiled back, faking annoyance, but enjoying the attention, "I told you already, alright. I heard from Padma who heard from Anthony who heard from Ernie that Ernie was walking down a corridor outside the Flitwick's classroom when he saw Malfoy with a second year Hufflepuff. Thinking that Malfoy was about to hex the poor boy, Ernie pulled out his wand and got ready, when Malfoy patted the kid on the back, straightened himself, and smiled… and I mean really _smiled_. Ernie stood there for a bit while watching all the girls swoon. And, all of a sudden, Hannah, because he was walking with Hannah at the time, fainted. And then the rest of them started dropping like flies. Then Ernie said Malfoy looked a bit annoyed and walked away. Just like that."

Hermione inwardly laughed, marking it as something she would later tell Draco for a lark.

"Oooh, I bet just like that." The two shared a furtive glance and tittered.

"But I'm not done. The weird thing about it is, it's not all that uncommon."

"Girls fainting at the sight of him?"

"No, not _that_… well sometimes that. Maybe?... no. The thing is, have you noticed that he hasn't been as smarmy as he always was? I mean, not that I've spent enough time in his presence to be insulted, or even acknowledged sometimes, to know the difference. But the younger years seem don't seem to mind him. What do you think, Hermione?" Parvati asked in a rather loud voice, not knowing that the Head Girl was already a very attentive listener and who almost gave away her hidden interest at the mention of Draco's surname.

However, she innocently asked, "Think about what?"

"Parvati, it's not like Hermione's pays much attention to anything other than _learning_. There's no point asking her."

"It certainly can't hurt. She shares a tower with the man." Parvati now turned her body to face Hermione and ignored Lavender, "What do you think about Malfoy this year, Hermione? You and he weren't on the best of terms what with your past, but what about now? Surely, you must've noticed some changes even without the shared common room and whatnot."

She feigned indifference at the question, but was deeply disturbed to the core. When had he stopped being exclusively nice to her and started to become openly amiable with others? She took a neutral stance that belied her stormy thoughts. "Yes, he has done quite well as Head Boy and is taking his duties seriously. I must admit I _was_ surprised by his sudden civility with"—_me, _why isn't it only me?_—_ "everybody. It's certainly a pleasant change from the old Malfoy." Who was replaced with the new _Draco_, the one Hermione selfishly thought should have only been privy to herself.

From there, the conversation was diverted towards Lavender after some hard effort on her part and she faded back into the background.

**x**

She didn't notice when she had fallen asleep.

"Hermione. Come on, Hermione. It's time to go to sleep. It's not that we don't want you here, but seeing as there's no free room, we have doubts that you'd want to share a bed with either one of us," he teased.

Smiling, she grudgingly brought herself into consciousness. "But then where else would I find blackmail material. Tell me, do you really have a pygmy puff tattoo?"

He chuckled lightheartedly and yawned while escorting her to the portrait, "Do you want me to walk you back?"

Seeing the slight discoloration under his eyes, no question from the restless nights of worrying over his scar, she answered him with a final no. And left with a goodbye. Ron had long since left with Lavender and had not yet returned.

She happened to catch a glance at the ornate clock that hung in Gryffindor Common Room and realized that it was past curfew. She quickened her steps.

Poking her head from under a tapestry that was used to disguise a hidden route, Hermione checked her surroundings for Filch. Though she was Head Girl, she didn't want to seem as if she was abusing her powers.

It was clear for now, but she heard footsteps approaching. She knew she should have at least asked Harry for the Marauders' Map. She didn't quite trust the corridors or; as she was loathe admitting, the dark; after her encounter with Zabini. Her mind refused to think of what might have happened had he not come upon her that night.

She heard two voices, one male and the other female, but could discern no words. The drone of their voices stopped and she hurriedly stuck her head back in with the tapestry pushed a centimeter aside.

A figure stalked by her tapestry. It was a female, a pretty fifth year, Astoria Greengrass if she was not mistaken. Sister of Daphne Greengrass who, Hermione was startled to realize, had not been seen in a few days despite their shared Charms class.

She stepped out, not hearing Astoria's counterpart come her way.

"Hermione?" And she froze.

The voice struck her first, such familiarity— his rich baritone reverberating through her —Draco. Another inexplicable wave of jealousy flowed through her, recalling Parvati's story. What had he been doing after hours with that comely fifth year? She thought bitterly, he had to have manipulated her in some way as to cause her such irritation.

She turned around slowly as if to prolong the inevitability, "Draco." A smile plastered upon her face.

"What are you doing out so late?" The baritone took on a harsher edge. He boldly made to hold her in his arms and whispered in her ears. "Don't you remember what happened last time?"

'How could I forget?' was what she wanted to say, but only said, "No," his tenderness catching her off-guard. Never had he been so gentle with her outside their tower.

As a small girl and now as an adult, Hermione had always considered embraces the most intimate expression of love. So much emotion is conveyed through a simple hug without much effort on either part. And there was always the innocence of it all that Hermione felt was an irresistible appeal, something always appreciated during dark times.

**x**

He'd seen her step out of the tapestry, much to his surprise, and called out to her instinctively.

The surprise quickly washed away and was instead replaced by a fierce protectiveness over her. It was not too long ago that he had caught her outside after hours under much different circumstances and asked if she had forgotten what had happened then.

His need to reach out and hold her overwhelmed his rationality and he made to embrace her as if she were a fleeting image about to be erased forever.

The conversation with Astoria, though short, was troubling. Things were advancing quicker than he had anticipated since he first received the cautionary letter. So her 'no' did little to reassure him of her safety. And he took a plunge downward.

"Hermione" he didn't loosen his hold on her, "What would you do—what would you do if the war were to come soon? Would you stay to fight? or would you… leave?"

**x**

His words shocked her from her peaceful state, "Draco, what do you mean?"

Only then did he release her from his embrace only to capture her hands. "The way I see it, there is no room for neutrality in war… would you fight or would you run?

The seriousness in his eyes caused her to stiffen. "What's wrong Draco? Why are you asking me this?"

"Tell me. Just… tell me."

"No. Not until you tell me why you're acting so strangely." Hermione struggled to free her hands.

"Listen to me, Hermione" his voice cracked slightly, "I—I need to know."

"I would fight of course, but what does that have to do with the way you're acting now. Draco? Answer me."

Draco chuckled mirthlessly, "I thought as much. I can only hope that that'll change soon. Goodnight Hermione. Do try to keep yourself safe 'til then, would you?"

**x**

Hermione made her way safely back to their tower expecting Draco to show up minutes after her own arrival, but he never came. When they parted ways, he was heading towards the dungeons. _Towards Astoria, perhaps?_ She shook her head furiously trying to dispel the thought.

She would not think about it now, but promised herself to bring it up soon if not for the sake of her curiosity, for the sake of her sanity.

Perhaps a more urgent and important matter would be Draco's concern over her stance in the war? Her priorities were out of order to say the least.

**x**

Today was a Thursday.

Hermione would leave first, she always left first. And he would follow her exactly ten minutes later. However, it was a mere four days following their after-hours rendezvous and Hermione was expecting further details about his strange behavior from Sunday night, but received no information. He avoided her questions and prompted her attention to the texts. She could do no more without arousing suspicion so she let him be.

But, today was a _Thursday_. They would not be studying in the library today; they would be in their common room.

To mentally prepare herself for the task of interrogating Draco Malfoy, Hermione arrived at her common room in record time, a small glass vial gleaming from inside her sleeve. Hastily spreading the textbooks and parchment around her, she sat down cross-legged in the center of the books. A glass vial tucked under her right sleeve.

She had answered his request to open her heart to him only to be left with questions. So she thought it was about time to level the playing field.

Their portrait door opened and Hermione lifted her head to greet him. Cordially, he greeted her back.

"Have a seat, Draco Malfoy. Would you like anything to _drink_?"

…

**Bleh. D:**

**School's starting and I've started to slowly tackle my homework, and boy do I mean slowly.**

_**Silencella**_** – A combination of the spell **_**Silencio**_** with the Latin word for room: **_**cella**_**.**

**^That was written since summer, my apologies!**


	15. Fire, Fire Everywhere

**Disclaimer: I'm just a toddler in the JKRowling's sandbox, nothing more than that.**

...

-Fire, Fire Everywhere-

"Hey, you there, have you seen the Head Boy around here?"

The scared little first year squeaked out a negative response and ran in the other direction. She wasn't the first one that Hermione had interrogated that morning.

"Hermione!"

She whipped around.

"Why are you looking for Malfoy?"

"Oh just something," she said noncommittally.

Her two closest friends shared an odd look while the third not-quite-so-close one stayed sulking and the closer-than-the-third fourth clung close to Ron until Harry broke the stare.

"Well, it's been two weeks since we've actually got to talk to you—"

"I've just been—" Hermione tried to justify her actions but was cut off by Harry not giving her a chance to speak.

"Busy. Head girl stuff and homework. It's alright. We understand. But today is Sunday!" he said with a wide grin, "So Ron and I thought the three of us should take a short trip to Hogsmeade!"

Ron shook his head in agreement, also smiling. Until, the fourth of their party spoke up.

"I keep telling you two. I'm _sure_ our dear Hermione must have better things to do with _Malfoy_. You two have been spending quite a lot more time together, I hear. And not just doing duties or studying" Ginny's displeasure was quite apparent to Hermione. However, Harry and Ron sensed none of it. Boys, she thought, always oblivious to the seedy underbelly of the workings of women.

Lavender, picking up on Ginny's implications and eager to redirect Ron's attentions back to herself, quickly agreed, "It's best to just leave her to Malfoy and go to Hogsmeade ourselves."

Forever playing the mediator, Harry directed a question to Hermione, "Have you really been spending your free time with Malfoy instead of us?"

Furious at Ginny and Lavender but unable to vehemently deny the accusations, Hermione confessed, "Maybe... yes." And quickly followed with, "But not _all_ my time. And we're just talking, really. He's really quite decent now! Nice to hang around even."

Ginny smiled triumphantly.

"You're right, but we've missed you Hermione."

Ginny's smile left her.

Hermione was surprised; she was even more surprised when Ron jumped in to agree.

"Yeah, Hermione. I mean, we know you have other friends, but can't you find more time for your _best _friends?" His charmingly boyish smile warmed her heart. Her _best_ friends had seen Draco's change and believed he had changed for the better. They had chosen to let go of their childhood rivalries. "Actually, we've all been talking about it. The only thing is, we can't figure out _why_… We noticed that he started being less smarmy to you," at this, he looked pointedly at Hermione, "and then everyone else after."

Forgoing his position as mediator, Harry tag teamed with Ron to satisfy his curiosity.

"What do you think, Hermione? Surely, you must know?"

"Yeah! Does it have something to do with you hanging around him more?"

Hermione tried to defuse the escalating situation and offered to explain it to them all in a more private location. With one stipulation. "You two will have to leave." She was referring to Lavender and Ginny who had stayed silent through the inquisition.

The two boys seemed okay with this. However, Ginny was not. "What? Why do _I _have to leave?"

"Yeah! I want to know too! Parvati'll just die when I tell her that I know something that she doesn't!"

"That's exactly the point, Lavender. This can't get around. And Ginny, you have to leave because I don't want to be attacked while explaining myself."

"Sorry. We'll talk later," Harry muttered to Ginny as Ron did the same to Lavender.

She turned and walked towards her tower. The boys understood and followed, leaving Ginny and Lavender behind.

**x**

"Hey Hermione, why's this the first time we've ever been in your dorm?"

"Draco and I agreed not to let anyone in. But I'll convince him to let this one slide. If he's even in there," the last part she whispered under her breath. They gave no indication that her using his first name was any big deal.

After Draco discovered that she had tried to drug him with truth serum, she had seen neither hide nor hair of him. Neither had anyone else she had questioned.

"Oh," Harry responded, having understood the desire for privacy after sharing a dormitory with four other boys just being boys.

Ron was in awe while admiring the Heads Tower's splendor.

"Maybe you should've tried harder to be Head Boy, Harry."

"Ha, Dumbledore knows I already help protect the school. I don't need the title to emphasize it."

Hermione laughed. It was just too true. And Hermione was happy that Harry was joking about it now. Times were serious. It helped to keep a bright perspective sometimes.

"Tsk tsk tsk Hermione. I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. Don't think we've forgotten why we're here," he admonished, still in his joking mood.

"Oh darn."

Harry and Ron offered smiles in return while she pretended to glare at them.

"Start, please."

"I know, I'm trying. It's hard. A lot has happened."

"Just start from the beginning."

"Very well…"

**x**

She told them about the truce, leaving out how they sealed the truce. Harry had already known, but Ron was skeptical that Malfoy would be able to keep his promise.

Then she told them about the Veritaserum incident, all the while sighing throughout. It was not one that she wanted to remember. Embarrassing to say the least. Stupid to be honest. And extremely painful to think of it objectively. Harry and Ron couldn't believe that she would rather experience the pain rather than just answer the question. Of course, she didn't tell them what the question was. They wouldn't understand. They did understand; however, that Draco had willingly touched her—a _mudblood_—and carried her to the Madame Pomfrey without being ordered to.

The next part, she grew a bit nervous. She told them that she would only say it once. And if they inquired further, she would stay silent. They agreed. Though they fought every urge to keep their agreement. They wanted to murder Zabini themselves. And their blood thirst was only slightly assuaged when Hermione relayed what Draco had told her had happened to Zabini. The details he gave her were vague, but chilling… not that Zabini hadn't deserved it.

That ended her Hermione's storytelling.

"Well, now you two know why we've been more friendly. I don't know why he's been friendly to other people though. Maybe I've been rubbing off on him," she joked.

"So, are you guys really mates now?"

Her mind went to their first kiss and the many kisses following, but she simply answered, "Yes. Friends."

"So where's Malfoy now?"

"I… I don't know."

Ron, ever the skeptic, "You two practically live together but you don't know? When's the last time you saw him?"

"A couple of weeks ago. He just disappeared…"

"So the fer—err—Malfoy isn't here?"

"Nope."

"This is his dorm, and a swanky one at that, why would he leave?"

"Well…"

"Hermione… tell us…"

"Well… I may have tried to drug him…"

Her barks of laughter shocked her.

"Oh, Hermione, you are a right genius."

"What? No! Not with anything bad, just a little Veritaserum. I was just trying to ask him to clarify some things."

"When people don't answer things, other people just let it go or keep bugging them til they answer… Our Hermione drugs them!" Ron was in tears.

"Oy, Ron. Careful, she might try to poison your pumpkin juice." Harry couldn't help join in on the fun in between his own bouts of laughter.

"Oh shush you two. It was important! I really wanted to know."

"Haha, know what?"

She was silent.

This lead to their own silence.

"… Hermione… what did you want to know?"

Silence.

"Hermione!"

"Okay! He was acting really weird one night. He kept asking me about the war—"

"That bastard. He _hasn't _changed then."

"No, Harry. Not like that. He asked me if I… if I'd would fight or leave. Or course I said I'd fight but—"

"That's our girl," Ron piped in.

"—But he wouldn't tell me why he was asking. So I wanted to use the Veritaserum—"

Loud footsteps drowned out her words.

"Hermione!" Someone bellowed. It was Draco.

Harry and Ron noticed that he too used her first name.

Draco stumbled into the common area, "You need to leave now. _We_ need to leave now, I—" He saw Harry and Ron in their room and stopped.

"What, Malfoy? Why do you need to leave?"

"Yeah, Malfoy. Out with it."

Hermione felt the familiar rivalry rekindling itself, so she stepped in. "Draco, where have you been?"

"It doesn't matter. We need to go now."

"Does it have something to do with why you want to leave now?"

"Yes! Now let's leave!"

"Draco. Tell me."

Not wanting to delay Hermione and him further, he acquiesced.

"A few days ago, some unmarked letters were sent to a couple of the Slytherins and myself. They were sent to all of those whose families had shown themselves to be aligned with—"

"—Voldemort" Harry interjected in disbelief.

"I want proof," Ron demanded, but he didn't expect Draco to actually provide him with evidence.

Draco pulled a letter out of his robes and threw it at him, "Now you know." He turned towards Hermione and grabbed her arm, urging her to leave with him, "For the past couple of weeks, ... I've been talking to my father."

"About what?" Hermione was even more curious now.

"About what I was to do... He wanted me to go with him."

"And?" She leaned in for his answer. The boys who had been watching from the sidelines leaned closer too.

"I refused. He left. Can we go now?"

Hermione was in shock. She knew Draco didn't have any inclination towards the Voldemort's side, but she had forgotten that denying Voldemort would be to deny his father too.

"Your father... Draco that's crazy."

"I didn't say it wasn't. But this is happening. _Now_. It's our last chance to leave unscathed."

"No. Even if this is really happening. I told you I'd stay. I told you I would _fight_. I intend to keep my words."

His eyes pleaded with hers. He wasn't going to leave her in the thick of things.

"Why can't we go to Dumbledore? He'll know what to do."

Draco was about to respond, but it was too late.

Bright light burst in from the window, slightly blinding them.

Screams sounded like alarms, never ending.

The four ran down to the first floor of their old wizarding school. From there, they could see the terrible destruction. They could see their professors lining up at the edge as a defense.

Friendfyre had been simultaneously cast at the far edge of the Forbidden Forest, raging towards the school. Towards them.

A loud ringing joined the cacophony, an alarm, and a calm disembodied voice warned students to stay in their dormitories until otherwise told. Those willing to fight were to make their way to the forest's edge. Voldemort was coming.

The four froze only to collectively break out at a sprint heading towards the forest.

At the outskirts of the Forest, nearing the professors and other students, ready to protect their school, Draco pulled Hermione aside.

"Do you leave _with me_ or do you fight _with them_?"

The emphasis of his words were not lost on Hermione, and she found herself being pulled towards Draco's outstretched hand.

About to grab his hand, everything suddenly froze for Hermione.

**x**

She gained "awoke" in a world of gray. Devoid of all forms of life save for her and another man.

"Hermione," he spoke, stepping closer to her, "My name is Mark."

Hermione's eyes widened, "What are you?... Why am I here… _How_ am I here?"

"That is not important, but I'm here to help."

Hermione shrunk back, wary of the new man.

"Please, trust me." His eyes pleaded with her, reminding her of Draco.

"Why should I?"

"Because I know you! I know what's going to happen to you!" He fought back the urge to just tell her to stay, and that if she left, nothing good would come of it for her. And that's all he wanted, he didn't care about anything else but her safety. Fortunately for him, he knew that rationality would win her over. So he regained his composure. "Trust me, Hermione, I know you."

"But _why_?"

"You just should. The path you're on now, it will lead to doom. I _know_ you will foolishly choose him and that you two will leave."

"Him… you mean Draco? I haven't decided yet though…"

"You will," he said solemnly, "And _never_ mention his name in front of me again. It's a foul name. It's bearer will bring you only misfortune. If you go with _him_, your friends will _die_." He didn't want to lie to her, but he had to. "You shouldn't leave, so selfishly, Hermione. You have to tell him that you want to stay and fight. _Think of your friends!_" He knew how important they were to her.

"How do I know all that's true?"

He tells her of her past childhood. "Your broken arm from the sandbox. The time your grandfather caught you reading in his private study. He hit you that day. Told you never to enter his study again. But the years later after he died, you did. And you found out why he didn't want you in there."

"You know what I'm talking about, don't you Hermione?"

"Yes..."

"We both know why he didn't want you there. But how do I know? Because I've been watching you! For your own good."

"Watching me?"

"Yes. So you should listen to me now when I say that you should not leave with him!"

"That's… that's all true. But—"

"But NOTHING! Right now, you're looking at two paths, dear child. One leads to happiness with your friends. The other leads to doom."

"I need... I need time to think about this... It's all coming so fast."

"You don't have time! I need to leave you soon... but you know… in your heart and mind, you know it's true, and you know what you should do."

**x**

She found herself in the same position, about to grab Draco's hand, but she stopped herself.

"I fight with them. What are _you_ going to do, Draco?"

…

**This has been semi-edited... I'll edit it more when I have the time.  
**

**Water, water everywhere, but not a drop a drink.**

**I thought about finishing the chapter right after Draco came in… but I've been horrible at updating so… there you go… D:**

**I also apologize for this chapter not being as smooth as I would have liked. But I really just wanted to get this chapter out for you guys!  
**


	16. Fighting Fyre with Fire

**Disclaimer: I'm just a toddler in the JKRowling's sandbox, nothing more than that.**

...

-Fighting Fyre with Fire-

"Draco, what are you going to do?" She asked urgently now.

He still did not respond.

Mark told her that her friends would be doomed if she left with Draco, but what if Draco stayed with her? "You have to stay to fight, Draco. Can't you see?" she tried, "There's nothing that they can give you that we—" _that I_ "can't. We need you." _I need you_.

"I could care less about them when I could be saving you! I don't need to stay so long as you come with me. _Now_."

"But I _am_ going to stay Draco. It wouldn't be right to leave." And it was right to just listen to a stranger you don't even know who knows all about you? She thought to herself. "It just… wouldn't. None of this makes sense, Draco. Why do you even want me with you?... You don't need to go that far for the sake of a truce."

"You're raving! You think everything I've done was for the truce!" he bellowed. She infuriated him. Didn't she notice how much she meant to him by now? How he treated her with special care?

He saw her falter and in his fury of emotions, he kissed her. His hands gripped the back of her head fiercely, entangling his fingers in with her hair. When he finally parted, she was breathless and lightheaded.

"Do you understand now? Have I made myself clear enough for you? Have I proven myself once more? Come with me, Hermione," he pleaded.

"… Unless you don't feel the same way," he added when he saw her hesitate.

Hermione could see the determined stance and concluded she couldn't try to persuade him to stay. It would be irrational to leave with him; but she found she liked that irrationality. She liked Draco, at the very least, she liked him. She thought of nothing but Mark and forced her eyes shut. "I can't… my friends"

"Hermione…" he was heartbroken.

And she got mad. She got mad that he was making her choose. She got mad that he didn't understand. She got mad that he didn't want to stay and fight for their school. For whatever they shared. "You're a coward, Draco," she cried in frustration.

Her words stung. He was no coward. He just didn't care what happened to the others as long as she was safe with him; it was what he had decidedly wanted after he discovered that she was not lower than him. In fact, if he were being honest to himself, she was better. She _was _the light. She was his light. But she didn't want to go with him. She had chosen _them_.

Her friends. Many were superficial. Of her closest, one could only offer her friendship. The other a selfish and childish love. But he, he offered her real love, his love. He could have for so long. And all he had to show for it was a handful of stolen kisses and touches. Made behind closed doors for fear of _her friends_ finding out.

So he ran. He ran towards the Great Lake. He ran with no particular goal in mind. He just couldn't bear to stay when she hadn't chosen him…

As he ran, to his right and slightly behind him he could see the blurry outlines of their figures. A handful of protectors. To his left and slightly in front of him, he saw the Dark Lord's massive forces advancing behind the massive fury of the Fiendfyre. It reminded him of the Quidditch World Cup. Except this time, it was more _real_ to him. He was caught in the middle, he was no longer protected by his adolescence. He was a man now. And he had to decide for himself. Neutrality would be impossible. One could not offer protection to the neutral without wanting something in return, their alliance. Thus, nullifying the point of neutrality.

So which was it for him? He desperately wanted to be with her, but still felt the pain from what felt like betrayal.

Before he could make up his mind to go back, a hooded figure stepped in front of him.

**x**

Hermione felt so _tired_. What had she done? She didn't want to let him go so easily, but what choice did she have. She wanted to stay and fight, and he didn't. But did she really, she began to question herself. Why did she trust that Mark character so much? He used little to persuade her to trust him, he just insisted on it. So why did she trust him? Except Hermione knew instinctively why. She admitted to himself that he just seemed so _trustworthy_. Like she knew she could trust him but couldn't really explain why. It wasn't like her. But nothing she's done lately has been very much like her.

"Hermione! We thought you and Malfoy were right behind us… Where's Malfoy?" Harry added, confused.

"Gone."

Neither he nor Ron pressed the issue further. There were more important matters at hand.

"It's the aurors, Hermione. The aurors can't apparate and help us until Hogwarts' defenses are down. And you know Dumbledore would never let that happen, so—"

"They won't be here for hours," Hermione realized numbly.

"Yes! So we have to hurry and help! McGonagall told us to help the other professors with keeping up the defenses until the aurors arrive."

"Great. Any plans?" Hermione pushed out all other thoughts and focused on protecting Hogwarts.

"We were hoping you would know…"

"Let's go back to McGonagall first."

**x**

Professor McGonagall was rallying a small band of students and select professors to go behind the fire at the forest's edge. The others would stay at the edge and cast containment spells against the fire, knowing that shields would do nothing to protect them completely against it. Both tasks were easier said than done as the inhabitants of the forest came rushing from the forest towards the school, and thus impeded them in their tasks.

She told the three to stay and to wait for Dumbledore's messenger as she went off with her troops.

"We can't just stay here and wait," argued Harry.

"We should just follow McGonagall now! Before we lose her." Ron grabbed Harry's arm.

"No. We need to stay and think about this. I remember reading about Fiendfyre in an old charms book in the library and—"

"Hermione, you can't possibly think that _books_ would help us now."

Hermione shot a cross look at Ron. "Yes Ronald, yes I do. Now quiet and let me think. … I just… need to think…"

Ron wasn't too happy but obeyed. Harry apprehensively obeyed, too, mentally allowing her only a few minutes before he charged ahead.

Minutes later, Hermione still said nothing and Harry turned to Ron.

"Come on, we're going to find McGonagall."

Hermione's eyes fell. She watched them leave, staring at the animals scurrying away from the boys' rampant steps. Then, inspiration struck.

"Stop you two, I've got it!"

They looked at her in disbelief.

"Hermione, you don't have to lie to get us to stay. We're leaving."

"No, really! Harry, Ron. Look down!"

Ron grew queasy at the sight of spiders, "Spiders?"

"Yes. But that's not what I meant. Look, it's the salamanders!"

They both waited for her to continue with her thought process, giving her blank stares all the while.

"Honestly, this isn't the time for me to lecture but pay attention in class! Salamander fire is the strongest of _all _magical fires. Which means, it'll overpower Fiendfyre. And then once the salamander fire get all of the Fiendfyre, we can just sprinkle powdered salamander eggs onto the fire!"

They were slightly less puzzled… but she continued noticing their expressions were still hazy.

"... The only way to stop Salamander fire is the presence of its own in danger from the fire. That's where the powdered salamander eggs come in!"

"Wait. Are you telling us, that to fight fire, we have to use fire?" Ron said incredulously.

"It's not that crazy, Ron. It's been done before in the twelfth century when those rogue wizards tried to burn the Forests of Calbury."

Having also not paid attention in History with Binns, Harry and Ron took her word for it and quickly asked, "So what do we do?"

"Harry, you stay with me and start collecting salamanders. A stunning spell will do. We'll get the powdered salamander eggs from Snape's storeroom later. Ron, you go find McGonagall. We can't have people or anything else running around when we do this."

Ron ran in the direction that Professor McGonagall left.

"_Burn the Forbidden Forest_. Is that really the plan, Hermione?"

She grasped the stunned salamander in her hands tighter, "Unfortunately."

**x**

Ron came back with Professor McGonagall and the others.

"Oh thank goodness, Miss Granger. I feared that we would not have lasted very long. Severus, if you would quickly get the powdered eggs. A pinch would do but bring everything you have just in case. If I recall correctly, upon meeting another salamander's fire, the fires combine minds to represent the good of the species," he went off at once, "Thank you, Severus!"

She turned to her group, "The rest of you students, start stunning and collecting Salamanders. And be careful!"

**x**

The fires licked at each other. Fighting for dominance. One overpowering the other with Professor Snape at the helm, ready to subdue the now growing salamander fire.

Once Professor Snape sent green sparks in the sky signaling that he had sprinkled the powdered salamander eggs and the Salamander should be eliminated soon, the other professors and students began flooding the forest with a magical solution, specifically created to prevent fires. They had to use it sparingly and with great accuracy since it was greatly diluted after retrieving the paltry amount in Professor Snape's storeroom. There was no time to make more.

From the distance, as the fire went down and the Forbidden Forest smoldered, the Death Eaters approached more distinctly now and in droves.

"Any ideas now, Hermione?"

"Not really, no…"

…

**I'm definitely not an expert on Salamander fire. I just read about it another story and thought it was cool. :]**

**I also realized just how choppy the last chapter was; I just really wanted to update it for you guys, so yeah… I'll edit it again later when I have the time! **

**Right now, I'm really just updating so that you guys don't have to wait so long. After that, I'm going to take some time to edit it and tie up some loose ends. After **_**that**_**, I'll start on the second installment. Yeah… there's going to be a sequel…**


	17. Filter

**Disclaimer: I'm just a toddler in the JKRowling's sandbox, nothing more than that.**

...

-Filler-

"Who _are_ you?" Draco asked, just before he lost control of his body.

His mind tried to fight it, but was overpowered by a searing pain and a voice that told him to comply before the pain became worse. It was the Imperius Curse.

It would feel better if you complied, the voice told him. And he knew better than to trust the voice, but it hurt so much. Then the voice promised him, it would bring him to them and he need not worry. All of his instincts and rational thoughts told him not to listen, to trust the voice, but the pain intensified whenever he even considered anything other than what the voice had told him.

He didn't even question anything anymore. His burning questions were put out by the even more intense pain.

**x**

The army of Death Eaters stopped suddenly; they were within striking distance, and the fighters of the Light became paranoid. Why did they stop?

While Hermione perused the reasons, Draco stumbled out of the forest. Her concentration was broken. She called out to him, "Draco! What are you doing here?" But she didn't really care. She was just so happy to see him again. This time she would convince him to stay no matter what. She would bound and gag him if it came to it.

He paid her no attention.

It was like watching a silent movie. Everything was contrast in black and white. And try as she might, she couldn't hear anything.

She could see his footsteps sloshing in the diluted magical solution but still no sound reached her ears. He lifted his wand and she saw his mouth move. Still no sound. But Harry must've heard what Draco said because he turned around, shocked. She saw a green light creep from Draco's wands, but that was impossible. Silent movies never had colors. It was always just black and white.

And then once more, sound and colors overflowed her senses and she screamed. Her own scream shook her from her stupor. She could hear again. So she screamed again. And again. And again.

"What are you doing Draco? NO, no, no… what have you _done_? Draco!"

She never stopped screaming as she saw another green flash. And then another. Two bodies, seemingly sleeping, but she knew better.

They were dead.

The same hooded figure that approached Draco in the forest approached Hermione. He took off his mask.

Zabini. Laughing. As if it were a joke to him.

Harry had died and so had Draco. And he was _laughing_?

Another hooded figure strode out from the Forbidden Forest. "Well done, Zabini. It's a pity that I did not have the honor or killing Harry Potter myself, but I have learned from my past mistakes. And a pity the young Malfoy had to die as well. But, if you are not _with_ me, you are _against_ me." He too started laughing.

It was Voldemort. "Tell the others to go forward once more. The deed is done!"

**x**

She couldn't recall what Professor McGonagall screamed at her once McGonagall realized what was going on. She couldn't recall how the aurors got there or how many of them there were. She didn't feel Ron's hands around her. She couldn't even tell you where Ron was dragging her as he whispered what she supposed were comforting words in her ears.

And finally, she couldn't tell you why she was in the Headmaster's Office with Ron by her side, explaining what had happened with Harry and Draco to Dumbledore.

But she could recall that the moment Harry fell, the side of the Light lost its will to fight. To hope. And when Draco fell… she lost her will to live. So instead she sat. She was so confused. She was so _dirty_ from the mud brought up by people's feet running. From the muddling of her mind. By bodies falling. By rocks exploding. What did Draco do? What did he do… why did he do it? She couldn't believe what she had seen with her own eyes. Dirty eyes, too. Dirtied by the sight.

"What are you going to do now?" Ron begged the old man to tell him. With the loss of his friend, Ron was going crazy and pacing across the room.

"I cannot do anything, Mister Weasley."

This stopped Ron in his tracks, "What do you _mean_?" He eyed his Headmaster.

"I simply cannot do anything for _you_, Mister Weasley. I must concentrate on keeping the shields up in my study." He looked out the single window of the room towards the Forbidden Forest.

The thinned ring of trees was all the death eaters had to get through before they reached the aurors.

"I'm sorry…" He closed his eyes. The last of the trees were gone. The Forbidden Forest was no more.

A deep rumbling shook the castle, children's screaming filled the walls. An explosion was heard outside of his door. It jolted Hermione, she became hysterical, so very unlike the calm and cool exterior of before in the face of adversity.

But that was before she found and then lost her oasis, one she didn't even know was there until it was lost, dried up and left her a shell.

She screamed at him, all politeness gone, "YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING! IT'S YOUR JOB. YOU TOLD HARRY TO DO IT. AND HE DIED. DRACO KILLED HARRY. AND THEN DRACO DIED. NOW IT'S _YOUR_ TURN! JUST... DO _SOMETHING_!"

She cried terribly. And Dumbledore couldn't do anything to comfort her. In fact, he was the cause of it.

So she stayed there crying, screaming, "It wasn't supposed to happen like this! It wasn't! WHY DID HE DO IT? Mark said that it would be better if I _stayed_. I STAYED. Why is this happening? Why did they die!"

Dumbledore's face drained of the little color it had left, "Miss Granger, who is this Mark?"

She just cried harder. The calming spell he hit her with, had little effect, but it got her to start talking.

"I don't know," she sobbed, "I don't know… he came to me just before… before _Draco killed Harry and they both died_. He told me that I had to stay if I wanted to save my friends. He _told _me. _He lied to me_. I shouldn't have trusted him. But it felt so right to trust him. I don't understand anymore. No no no… no…"

But Dumbledore understood. He understood what was wrong. He wondered how he hadn't realized it earlier. It was the prophecy. He was so very wrong. He shouldn't have tried to shield them from their futures. He shouldn't have kept them in the dark. He should have told them the entire truth about their prophecy together. His plans and ideas. They were not children anymore. But he tried so hard for them to keep their innocence that his protection was what ripped their purity away.

"I'm so very sorry, Miss Granger, I was wrong…"

"What's going on, Headmaster? What are you wrong about? _Tell me_!" Ron couldn't stay kept in the dark much longer.

Before he could answer, another explosion sounded, this time closer than the first.

Dumbledore turned to Hermione and told her to listen carefully. "My dear, I have been keeping something of great importance from you and it is time you hear it. There was a prophecy."

Hermione's ears perked up at the word, she had remembered the prophecy between Harry and Voldemort.

"The prophecy you see, concerned you and Mister Malfoy… the late Mister Malfoy. Now, you must focus, Miss Granger. I have time only to repeat this once.

"_Light has but one chance.  
A girl. A warrior. A fallen.  
The key to the end  
But for which side?_

"_Born into Dark's womb,  
Coerced into Light's embrace.  
A boy. A traitor. A savior.  
Her One to befriend  
But how can she?_

"_An earthen girl from a mark which lies,  
An untainted boy from Earth's riches.  
A strife. A friendship. A choice.  
Together they'll mend  
But when will they?_

"_A stitch in time saves nine,  
Change the future through the past.  
A will. A way. A need.  
A love without pretend  
But can they fix it?_

That is the prophecy in its entirety. Do you remember it, Miss Granger? Have you memorized it?"

"Yes..." Once was all she needed remembering something of that importance. And the way Dumbledore spoke ingrained it further into her mind.

"You must believe me, Miss Granger. I acted with all of your best interests at heart. It is my deep hope that you forgive me... but it is with deeper hope that you figure out this prophecy. And _fix_ whatever stands in the way of a future for the wizarding world. I believe you can do it. Mister Weasley, these are my last words on the matter, please take Miss Granger and _protect her_. Whatever you do, protect her. It is our last hope…"

He quickly threw a familiar powder into the fireplace before either could respond, and shoved the two through without any formalities. The last thing they saw was Dumbledore's office stormed by two Death Eaters, one unrecognizable, the other not. Zabini. And a third figure, Voldemort.

Anger coursed through her veins.

And then, they found themselves stumbling out of a fireplace. Out of Hogwarts.

…

**Ending soon…**


	18. Dirty Days

**Disclaimer: I'm just a toddler in the JKRowling's sandbox, nothing more than that.**

...

-Dirty Days-

It was dark; it was always dark when they were on the move.

She was dirty, a dirtiness that she could never wash off, try as she might. She could have rubbed herself until she was pink and raw all over, but she still felt dirty.

Hunger was a constant that she trained herself to ignore, but Ron insisted that she eat what little food they had to sustain herself.

Ron. Ron disappeared occasionally to bring her food or lead her into a protected shelter that would shield and protect her. Many times she told him he need not do it, but he insisted. Dumbledore's orders, he said.

Though she had a notion that it wasn't just because their now late Headmaster had told him to do protect her either. Ron isn't one to just follow orders because he respected someone.

Muffled guilt rang through her body whenever he risked his life just for her sake because she knew… no matter how hard he tried to keep her safe, he would gain nothing of substance from it. She would never be his, or anybody else's for that matter. A long time ago, she gave herself to a boy without realizing it, a boy who did the exact same thing. He broke down the walls to her heart, only to destroy it from the inside.

She had been too foolish to take just take his hand and run. Her encounter with Mark haunted her now. So she rethought about her last day at Hogwarts constantly. What was he thinking, she would ask, knowing he couldn't answer her. Why would he kill her best friend?

A nagging thought told her that it was because she had chosen them over her. A tinier voice told her there was something wrong with that. She didn't really believe that Draco would do that. Not anymore. That's why it was so wrong… the entire thing was so wrong.

And when she wasn't thinking about that day, she thought about her and Ron's bleak situation. Today she thought about one memory in particular. After a few days on the run from Voldemort and his merry band of Death Eaters, when she and Ron were especially worn out and broken down, she _did_give herself to him.

Her heart wasn't in it. And her motions mechanical at best. But dearest Ron seemed to enjoy it enough, so she didn't stop him. Whatever solace he could find, she wasn't going to take away from him. And this _payment_ to him was nothing to her. She just simply didn't care enough.

Because she didn't really give herself to him. She gave him her body. A paltry consolation prize for Ron. Ron who wanted more.

The day after, Ron had become reborn as a territorial protector, with a renewed fervor.

Now, months into their run, a cage here or there in the mountains was the best that could be found. Their options were obviously now limited as Voldemort's forces penetrated the ministry and forced other governments to bow to his will. They were then marked as wanted criminals with heavy bounties on their heads. The last she heard was that she had a fifty thousand galleon sum for her head while Ron had been only at thirty five thousand.

No one would want to help them. Not in these times…

Occasionally, they would venture into towns not yet fully caught in Voldemort's stranglehold. It was during those times when Hermione overhead the secret murmurings among the townspeople talking of a resistance formed under none other than Neville Longbottom. That made her smile, or at least the muscles in her face fixed themselves into a semblance of a smile. It didn't happen a lot, so she really couldn't tell or remember for that matter.

Though, there was never enough to actually point either of them to a location. Ron would've brought her there immediately.

That made her pause in her thoughts. There was a lot of done for the sake of her safety. But things ended up horribly anyway.

Harry wanted her safe, he died. Draco killed him… she had come to terms with this now. She made Draco kill him. She had long since subdued the thought that told her otherwise, but it occasionally showed up when he had more strength.

Draco wanted her safe, he died. By Zabini. Just another tally on the board of reasons why she wanted Zabini to be punished.

Dumbledore wanted her safe, he died. She had heard among the murmurs that he had died protecting the school. But it still wasn't enough. Hogwarts was no more.

And now, Ron. Ron wants her safe, and she was fairly certain she was killing him. He was dying from the unrequited love, though he never showed any signs of pain.

Maybe, she slowly concluded, if people stopped caring about me, then maybe they wouldn't have to die… or suffer in Ron's case.

She sighed.

She often thought of such things when Ron was away either hunting or scavenging, he never let her leave the spot, just like a wife, just like his own little doll to play house with.

Rustling came from behind the trees, she couldn't quite see past them. Ron picked this particular spot for her because others couldn't look in, but looking out seemed to be a problem now too.

It worried her, Ron didn't usually make any noises upon his return. But, she thought, he had been tired when he left, very tired. Maybe he was just getting careless? The sane thought them dead, so why not? Though… the greedy and insane believed them very much alive.

More rustling. She readied her wand.

A voice sounded, not Ron's, and told her to come out. "Come out, Hermione, I know you're there."

Hermione realized that he must've not been able to break the ward and enter the magical barrier Hermione cast whenever Ron left. _Constant__Vigilance_. She shivered.

She could tell that the voice was male. But weak. He had short quick gasps of breaths in between taunting her.

"Come out, Hermione. I won't hurt you. Unless you want me to…" Another short gasp. "We can have so much fun, you and me."

It was time for her to leave. Ron had once told her, that if anything like this should happen, should they ever be discovered, she should leave and he'd find her. He assured her that he would find her.

The man tried to heckle her once more, "It's not like you'll have someone else to keep you company for a _long_ time, my sweet little mudblood."

Silence, save for the man's breathing.

"You see, I've killed that blood traitor friend of yours. He didn't go as easy as I thought, but once he did. He was gone." He laughed slowly before continuing once more. "What's that? Don't believe me?" The man threw something towards where he guessed Hermione was laying, and it passed the barrier.

The item skidded to a stop before her. It was a wand, obviously broken. Unicorn hair peaked out. It was Ron's wand. Hermione recognized the marks on the willow wood used to make it.

In the abyss that were her emotions, it should have been impossible for her to feel something, but she did.

She had already snapped once before, so it was not possible for her to break again. Would this mean that Ron's death is causing her to reconnect the loose ends of her emotions and rationale?

Calculatingly, she lowered the wards, and the man noticed.

"Oh, little mudblood. Are we getting tired? Well, not to worry. I'll finish what I started months ago at Hogwarts. It's just bricks and ash now, did you know? Nothing there, took care of with the other Death Eaters."

Hermione tensed as he stepped closer. It couldn't have been him…

Another step closer. He was just behind the leaves now.

Another step closer. She could see his face now. The same face in her memories. Yes. It was Blaise Zabini come to torture her and finish the job.

She didn't let the smile linger on his face for long. "_Reducto_!" She screamed.

Zabini fell back into the trees, and Hermione approached his prone body.

She kicked him in the ribs. Hard. She kicked him again. For good measure. She took his wand, broke it, and set it ablaze. Backstepping into the cave, she picked up Ron's own wand, worth only for its sentimental value now, and tucked it away into a bag with the rest of her meager belongings.

She wanted to kill him quickly, but she knew that that was too good for a man like him. Instead, she divested him of all of his clothing and adornments, and tied him with the strips of cloth she made from them.

Zabini was levitated into the cave. A large rock soon followed, blocking the entrance for good. Hermione's magical barrier recast to ensure his demise.

But first, she wanted answers. She had been away from reality for far too long, kept away by Ron's protection. So she waited until she heard yelling from the inside to signal his return to consciousness.

She asked him about what Voldemort was doing now. He didn't answer.

She asked him again. He didn't answer.

She asked him continuously. But he never answered.

But that was okay, every time he didn't comply with her wishes, the barrier shocked him. And for the first time in a while, she felt real emotions. It brought her something she distinguished as great joy to watch him suffer with every refusal.

"You realize that it will keep shocking you until you answer, don't you?" She asked, amused.

Silence.

"Well, that's fine with me. It'll just keep shocking you."

"Why don't you ask me about Malfoy?"

She didn't feel amused any longer.

"What about him?" She finally grounded out.

"Oh you know. I'm sure you've had questions. Why did he leave? Why did he kill Potter? Why did he… betray you, perhaps?"

He was right. She did want to know. She would be lying if she said otherwise.

"Suppose it wouldn't hurt to answer some of those questions for you. After all, you've been quite gracious." Laughter. Softer now, the shocks combined with his previous injuries were getting to him. "It was all because of you."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed and her vision clouded.

"Don't toy with me Zabini. This is not your day."

"Worry not, Granger. I'm telling you truthfully. I promise _on__my__own__grave_ that I'm telling the truth. It was because of you. I had noticed Malfoy's pureblooded ideologies slip away from him as the years went on. He didn't care about torturing mudbloods anymore. His companionship for you, sealed his fate. I told the Dark Lord everything I saw. That he had saved _you_, a mudblood, instead of helping me punish you. The Dark Lord didn't seem to like that. So he began to notice too. And then, it was time. Poof. Potter dies by Malfoy's hands. Malfoy dies by my hands. And we all fall down. But you know what the funny part is?"

"No. Zabini. What in your sick little mind makes you think _any_ of that is funny?"

"It's Malfoy. Did you really think Malfoy killed Potter?"

Hermione paused, her vision gone. "… I know what I saw."

Laughter. "I'm sure you do. But you didn't see before. Oh, how Malfoy struggled. He just didn't want to listen. I think it had something to do with not wanting to hurt anybody. The fool. And you've been thinking he killed Potter all this time. Isn't life wonderful?"

"… You used the Imperius Curse on him?"

"Correct, Miss Granger. Ten points to what's left of Gryffindor! Go ahead now, kill me. I don't care. Death doesn't scare me. Kill me!" He commanded her. "Little Malfoy dies because of his little mudblood."

More emotions flocked to Hermione. Her heart started hurting again. A love, not yet blossomed, destroyed all the same.

And then she felt it again. Just like the last time she felt it in Dumbledore's office: anger. An old friend to her. With an eerie calm, she called out to him.

"You're quite smart Zabini. You shouldn't fear death. You should fear me."

Fire was slow burning, sins needed to be cleansed, so what better way?

Hermione chose Fiendfyre. Fiendfyre just like that day.

And that was that. She laughed. He would suffer until he died.

Though she still thought death was too good for him, she did not want to be bothered with keeping him alive solely to torture him. She had better things to do. She had to survive… though she had little desire to. She would go on for those who died for her.

It was dark. And she was oh so very dirty.

Just like that day.

…

**The end… or sorts. To the first installment anyway. **

**I really do apologize for the crappy/inconsistent writing/plot. I just really want to get it out there.  
Also, I don't want to leave things off again for years for the sequel, so if somebody would like to occasionally yell at me to keep updating, I'd like that. Thank you! **


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